


Trial and Error

by Nerd_of_Camelot



Category: Everyman HYBRID, Tribe Twelve
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Blood As Lube, Blood and Torture, Body Modification, Consensual Violence, Depression, Disembowelment, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, First Time, Horror, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited HABIT/Original Character, Unsafe Sex, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-12 09:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 146,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11734428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_of_Camelot/pseuds/Nerd_of_Camelot
Summary: The Jennings twins had always been inseparable, even after Habit found a best friend in one Lyra Jones. However, when Evan found a girlfriend in her, things started to change… And with a visit from their old friend, Noah Maxwell, Habit’s life fell apart.Temporary hiatus.





	1. Woodland Brooding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gay-Merrick](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Gay-Merrick).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the newest story.  
> For background, this story was brought about by a roleplay. But, no, the story is not actually based in the roleplay, it's based on a possible other direction the roleplay could have taken and then branches off into its own thing from there.  
> Lyra Jones, the Original Female Character, belongs to Gay-Merrick of tumblr (whose username has since changed to... something else entirely, but AO3 won't let me change the gift-recipient to anything else) and was used with their permission. Hope ya like it, doll - and that goes for everyone reading, too.

Ever since they were little, the Jennings twins were inseparable.

And, unfortunately for those around them, that is a very literal statement. They never went _anywhere_ without each other. Being identical twins meant, of course, that this got them into some shenanigans, but not nearly as many as they’d have gotten into if only one of them was in a place at a time.

As they got older, they did start to branch off from each other, particularly once they became school age. Habit made friends with a girl their age named Lyra Jones, and Evan slowly introduced himself and his brother to a group of other people, namely Vincent Caffarello and Jeffrey Koval. With them around, Evan _blossomed_. And Habit couldn’t have been happier, because despite a distinctive lifelong case of schadenfreude and his tendency to be (for lack of a better phrase) a cruel little _shit_ , he wanted few things in life more than he wanted his brother to be happy.

Over the years, Evan and Habit grew further from each other, but never actually stopped being close, even through Habit and Lyra becoming best friends and spending increasingly more time with each other. The twins shared a bedroom until they were 12, and shared a bed until then as well. It got a lot of questions from other parents, of course, but they didn’t care, and neither did their own parents. If they were happy, so be it.

But when they were 12, Habit got a kitten, and they found out the hard way that Evan was allergic to cats. Rather than making his brother get rid of his cat, Evan decided to move into the spare bedroom that was supposed to be his anyway.

Habit almost cried.

Fast forward another four years or so, and they were still close as could be. They were still the best of friends, Lyra notwithstanding in Habit’s case. In fact, Evan was the only person in the world he spent more time with than he did with Lyra.

It should be no surprise though, that, after spending so much time with Lyra, Habit began to develop something of a crush on her. He ignored it, for the most part, because he knew for a fact that Lyra had a thing for Evan and he wasn’t willing to be a replacement for his brother. And, besides - Habit wasn’t an emotional guy. He wasn’t sure how to handle telling her he liked her even if she _wasn’t_ crushing on his twin brother.

He knew that nothing good would come of _not_ telling her, but at the moment, nothing good would come of telling her, either. Not while she was so hung up on Evan. Habit could wait. Eventually she’d give up on Ev, for one reason or another.

The most likely, of course, being that he was fairly certain Evan had a thing for their mutual friend Stephanie. One day, Evan would make a move on her, and sure, Lyra would be absolutely distraught and Habit knew he’d be pissed that Evan had hurt her, but Lyra would give up on him then. He knew that. After that, he’d have a chance on his own with her. Granted, he’d still have to wait at least three months to make sure he wasn’t a rebound, but whatever.

What he was not expecting, what he did not even begin to plan for, was Lyra actually growing a pair and telling Evan how she felt.

And Evan telling her he felt the same way.

That had been three months ago, now, and Habit had never felt so conflicted in his life. On the one hand he was pissed out of his mind that Evan had gotten the girl _he_ wanted, and pissed at himself for being angry at Evan for being happy, and on the other hand he was so, so, so ecstatic for the two of them. They made each other very happy, and he could see that, and it made him happy.

But he was _so angry_.

But at the same time… He knew it didn’t matter how he felt about the situation. They were happy and it wasn’t likely that they were going to let anything stop them. Evan was too headstrong and Lyra was too stubborn. Sure, knowing how upset he was might make them more hesitant to show affection around him, but that was both too much and not enough.

Better to suffer in silence and let them be happy.

This way of thinking was, unfortunately, the only redeeming quality that he was aware he had aside from being funny. Everything else about him was just… _Bad_. And he’d admit that he did some of it on purpose - the constant flirting, the near-constant condescending tone, the sarcasm - but other bits were inborn. Likely from his mother, honestly - the anger issues, the general discomfort in his own skin. One of the worse things, he thought, was that he had inherited the family history of depression.

With that depression, unfortunately, came a history of self-harm. Bruising, mostly, but his thighs were a testament to the worse relapses. His thighs told a story through long parallel scars, some of them the remnants of gouges, some barely there. And, really, it’d always been his thighs. Only his thighs. They were strong and they could take the things he put them through when he was feeling particularly discontented,  and if he only cut his thighs they could be covered - not to mention he _liked_ wearing t-shirts and wasn’t really keen on giving it up to have a larger area to smother in his self-loathing.

Three months prior, that had changed. His thighs weren’t a large enough canvas to hold the painting of his grief. Of his rage. And so he’d extended upwards, onto his hips. Then to his stomach. Chest. Arms. He’d been wearing long sleeves for three whole months to cover the self-inflicted injuries.

The only thing that stung more than the feeling of fabric on them was the fact that no one had noticed something was wrong.

Not Lyra, not Evan. Not even Jeff or Vinny.

If anything, this particular development only cemented the idea that they really didn’t pay attention to what was going on under his nonchalant exterior. He wasn’t sure if he was angry or grateful for that.

Whatever.

It wasn’t important, and he couldn’t really remember why he was thinking about it. Until, that was, he glanced around him and remembered he was literally _surrounded_ by couples. Vinny and some girl named Lexi (a library volunteer, he thought), Evan and Lyra, and Jeff and Jessa.

It made him feel sick. He wanted to vomit. Why was he even here? Surely there was some excuse he could make to get away…

Oh. Wait - no one would even notice if he disappeared anyway, would they? They were all too involved in each other. Too busy sucking face. He gagged, but at least his getaway would be easy. He just had to find somewhere to - oh, there.

 _There_. The edge of the woods. It was perfect, he could just walk off into the woods. Walk into the woods and, y’know spend some time brooding, try to ignore the itch in his hands that made him want to reach for his knife - yeah. It’d be a grand old time. Maybe he should leave his knife here, though. Just in case. Just sorta throw it on the ground or…

You know what? Nah. He’d chance it. Not like anybody would notice some blood on his jacket, and if they did they’d likely assume it was fake because of his cover story way back when he’d first started cutting his thighs. “It’s stage blood!” He’d insisted, and they’d believed him. They’d believed him even though he’d never owned a tube or bottle of stage blood in his life.

God, his friends really didn’t pay any attention, did they?

He pondered that some more as he trudged into the woods. They never seemed to notice something was wrong, never seemed to realize something was upsetting him unless he reacted in anger rather than sadness. And oh, when he got mad they all fucking _scattered_. Didn’t matter who the target of his anger was, there wasn’t anybody left around once they realized he was pissed off.

Well. Except Evan. Evan was stupid enough to stick around when he got mad, but that was because he was the only one capable of calming Habit down.

Or, at least, he _used to be_ the only one who could calm Habit down. Now? Not so much. Habit thought it fair to assume that if Evan tried to calm him down right now he’d try to snap his fucking neck. And wouldn’t that be just what he needed - another attempted murder on his record.

He gave an annoyed huff at the thought, plopping onto the bench of a picnic table that he wasn’t really sure of the origin of. It wasn’t like there was a path leading to it or anything - it was just kind of here. Always had been, for as long as he remembered. He guessed it wasn’t too much of a long shot to think that maybe there _had_ been a trail to it, once upon a time.

This wasn’t the best place for him to come, he’d admit, because should anybody figure out he was gone, one of them would check here. Specifically Evan. Because Habit had been coming here when he was upset ever since he was a kid and Evan was the only one he’d told about it. But he couldn’t help the pull of it, couldn’t help the inherent comfort he took in being here. It was isolated, it was hard to find, and it was _his_.

He put his face in his hands and tried to gather his thoughts, his feelings.

Sure, he came here so he could be alone, so he could be emotional, but that didn’t mean he wanted to fucking cry about it. He hadn’t cried about this situation yet and he didn’t intend to. He _hated_ crying. Made him feel gross and weak and-

Nope. Stopping that. He hated himself enough at the moment. Didn’t need to think about how much more he’d hate himself if he happened to cry.

With a groan, he scrubbed at his face with his hands. This was annoying. This whole situation was annoying. His fingers found their way up into his hair, tugging gently to ground himself before carefully sweeping through the long locks. He closed his eyes and concentrated on working the knots from his hair.

He needed to brush it when he got home, but for now the simple grooming motions were enough. Not that he was particularly worried about the tangles. His hair had been in general disarray his whole life and he’d never given it much thought unless he was upset. These past three months had seen him paying a lot of attention to it.

His fingers continued to work through his hair. It was soothing, really. That was why he kept doing it even after the knots were gone. Why he’d begun to do so in the first place.

“Hey.”

Vinny’s voice was startling. Habit wouldn’t complain, though.

He glanced up through his lashes as Vinny quietly took a seat on the other side of the picnic table. He swallowed to clear his throat. “... Hey.”

“Evan told me you’d probably be here.” Vin clarified, “You okay?”

Well. Okay, maybe Vinny paid more attention than the others did. More than he thought he did. That didn’t mean Habit really wanted to answer the question, regardless of how touched he was that it had been asked. He stayed silent, shifting.

Vin sighed. “Okay, don’t talk to me. That’s fine - I just figured you might want company.”

Habit swallowed hard. When did Vinny learn to read his cues like that? Hell, when did Vinny pull his mouth away from Lexi’s long enough to realize he was gone? Not that it mattered, of course.

“I can leave, if you want?” Vinny offered, but Habit shook his head in reply immediately. “Alright. Want me to keep talking?”

Vinny seriously shouldn’t be this good at knowing what he wanted. They weren’t even _close_. Regardless, Habit nodded. Vinny shot him a small smile and the next hour or so was filled with Vinny prattling on to him about anything that came to mind. Everything from how gross Lyra and Evan were when they were being lovey-dovey to how much he hated their math teacher. All things that Habit could relate to and nothing else.

It was honestly pretty impressive.

Especially since it seemed effortless, like he didn’t have to think about things that he could relate to Habit with. But they weren’t _that_ much alike, so Habit didn’t see how he kept finding relatable things to talk about. Kept finding things they shared opinions about. Habit needed to know how he was doing it, his curiosity wouldn’t rest until he did.

“... And I mean, seriously, not even the smartest kid in class knows what he’s talking about.” Vinny was still talking about the math teacher. Or, rather, was talking about him again, for about the fourth time. He must have vexed Vinny something awful if he kept finding reasons to talk shit about him.

“Hey, Vin?” There was a lull between the other’s words and he took it.

“Yeah, Hab?”

“How the fuck do you keep finding things to talk about that I agree with you on?”

Vinny almost choked on a laugh, at that, which somewhat annoyed Habit. Why was he laughing? What was so funny about that question?

“Well, see, I’m just taking wild guesses. I _know_ neither of us like the math teacher, I can assume that you think seeing your brother and best friend make out is gross, and the rest of it was really just me venting, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s… Okay, so now I know we have more in common than I thought we did.” Habit rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “... Do you ever feel like nobody gets you and then immediately feel like you’re being over dramatic and whiny afterwards?”

“Every day of my life, Hab.” Vinny rolled his eyes, “Especially since I’m always around a bunch of people who don’t really actually share many common interests with me.”

“Literally same.”

“Oh dear lord don’t say same.” Vinny groaned.

Habit felt a grin pulling at his lips as he said the word again anyway. Vinny groaned a second time and dropped his head onto the table. It was while he was saying something about how much he hated memes that Habit realized his sleeve was riding up and he was about to show Vinny exactly how upset he was. Nope.

He yanked it back down his arm and did his best to be unaffected by the near-mistake. Vinny obviously hadn’t noticed or he’d have asked. Thank God for conveniently timed memes.

“You don’t hate memes.” Habit rolled his eyes, “You just don’t want me to sit here and say ‘same’ for the next 20 minutes.”

“That’s true,” Vinny admitted, “And we both know you’d do exactly that.”

It went quiet for a while. Vinny didn’t seem too bothered by it, which made Habit much less inclined to end the silence. On most days he’d be chattering away in an attempt to keep things moving, no matter how upset he was. But sometimes, he’d admit, it was nice to just sit quietly.

He noted, absently, that he only ever did that with Vinny.

He decided not to read too deeply into it, watching as Vinny’s lips started to twitch up into a smile. He didn’t get a chance to wonder why before realized he was humming. Hey, that was a good sign! Humming meant he felt better, feeling better meant somewhat more stable emotions until something set him off again, and somewhat more stable emotions meant he was less likely to deck his brother in the mouth when he got home.

Vinny soon picked up the tune he was humming and mumbled along, the smile on his face much more prominent now. And, believe it or not, that made Habit happy. His whole identity was based around alternatively being an egotistical nuisance to everyone and being a kindhearted friend to a select few people. And he took both jobs very seriously.

Maybe things _were_ okay, after all.

* * *

As per usual, he was very, _very_ wrong.

This was not, of course, immediately evident to him, and in fact he didn’t realize how not okay things were until he laid down to sleep that night. Even so, it wasn’t a sudden realization. It wasn’t just an impromptu ‘holy shit, things are bad,’. In fact, it was a fairly gradual thing.

The realization started with the fact that Lyra had come over to spend the night with him tonight, but was not staying in his room. That was unusual, even now. Evan may have been her boyfriend, but Habit was still her best friend and any time she stayed over she slept in his room. It’d been that way since they were little, and ever since middle school they’d even been sharing a bed when she stayed over. Tonight, she’d apologized and said she wanted to sleep with Evan instead.

He’d said he understood, pretended to be okay with it by making sex jokes, and laughed while she left the room completely red in the face.

He knew what it meant - he was losing her. She was slipping away from him because she finally had the twin she’d really wanted all along. It hurt, but he’d deal. He would. He wasn’t going to break over an disintegrating friendship, no matter how long it had gone on.

Nothing gold can stay, after all.

He continued to realize just how bad things were when the moaning started down the hall. He felt like his heart was being wrenched out of his chest. Pried out of a gaping wound by a clumsy surgeon with huge tongs that cut into the muscles. Even with a history of depression, he’d never felt such an all-consuming pain, and especially not one that was isolated to his chest.

He curled in on himself slightly, tears blurring his vision as he was forced to listen to something he’d never wanted to hear.

 _The jokes weren’t an invitation_. He found himself thinking, _They were just jokes._ This string of thoughts continued for only a second or two more before it swerved to, _You don’t even mean enough to them to warrant them telling you they’ve had sex. There’s no way this is the first time. They’ve probably been having sex the whole time._

He couldn’t help it. He buried his face in his pillow and let himself loose one trembling sob.

“E- _Evan_!” He heard Lyra squeak, down the hall in his brother’s room. They weren’t even being loud, he didn’t know how he heard them over his fan. He didn’t know why he only heard that one word. But, regardless, that single word did him in as he curled into himself even tighter, squeezing his pillow like it could make the tears stop. Like it could take the pain away.

He sobbed.

He sobbed until the rest of the house was quiet and still. Until he heard soft footsteps coming up the hall, likely belonging to his brother or to Lyra. He swallowed hard and forced himself to stop shaking. Stop sobbing. He forced himself to stay completely still, just in case.

His door creaked open, the dim hallway light creeping in and highlighting the end of his bed. “Habit?”

It was his brother, then. He stayed quiet and breathed deeply through his mouth. Breathing through his nose would make him sniffle, and he in no way wanted that. The door opened further and Evan padded in quietly.

“Habit?” He asked again, a little more timidly. “You awake?” When Habit remained silent yet again, he sighed, though whether it was in relief or annoyance Habit couldn’t be sure. “Could have sworn I heard someone crying, though…” He muttered.

Habit’s breath caught in his throat, despite the fact that he’d already assumed that his crying was what had drawn Evan to his room. Thankfully, Evan didn’t notice it, having already turned around. He was almost out the door when he’d made the comment, anyway, so the sound could have been easily masked by the fan.

Thank Christ.

His sobbing returned with renewed vigor the moment he thought Evan would no longer be able to hear him. He wasn’t sure, exactly, when he fell asleep. He just knew that when he woke up in the morning, the feeling of “things aren’t okay” had cemented itself in his head, alongside a throbbing migraine and the vaguest memories of a dream. A dream where things in his life had gone differently - where Evan had gotten with Stephanie and he’d eventually gotten to have Lyra all to himself.

He soothed himself back to sleep with the hazy memory of Lyra moving in with him in his grandfather’s house, and of himself getting down on one knee in the kitchen of that very house. He lost consciousness to the imaginary Lyra’s delighted, tearful agreement.


	2. Visitor

Noah had been planning this trip for months - ever since the beginning of the Spring semester (maybe even before that, if he was being honest), and he was actually pretty ecstatic to finally be able to take it, after all that time.

It was, after all, the first trip he’d be taking without his parents.

Not that doing things without his parents was exactly new to him recently - he was growing progressively more ‘rebellious’ (that being the only appropriate word for it, in his mind) toward them. Although, it wasn’t like they really noticed, and if they did notice, they clearly didn’t care. He’d be in a lot more trouble right now if they did. But he guessed it was better that way, with them not noticing anything, since the likelihood of them noticing he was gone until about a day after his arrival in New Jersey were slim to none.

Speaking of that, the train was pulling into the station at that very moment.

Convenient.

He grabbed his bag and took a deep breath. Despite his views on it, it was still pretty nerve wracking to be doing this by himself. On the bright side, Habit and Evan were supposed to come pick him up to take him to his motel room, so at least he wouldn’t be completely alone. And he was here to see friends, anyway, so he guessed that being alone wasn’t something he’d really have to worry about.

That said, he was still worried about it. He’d heard that everyone in the group was in a relationship, now, except for Habit and Stephanie. That could make things interesting (see: disgusting) or very, very boring (see: pointless)

(And if he was _really_ unlucky, it could be both at once.)

Everyone being in a relationship meant that any one pair of them could bail on the group at any minute for any reason they felt like, and the others really wouldn’t notice or care. It also meant that the couples would likely be spending at least half their time just smooching and loving up on each other. And, also, that the likelihood of him getting left alone with Habit or Stephanie was high.

Stephanie he could probably handle. Sure, he didn’t have a whole lot in common with her, but she did like supernatural type things and he had plenty of experiences he could share with her, so at least they’d talk. Habit, on the other hand… Well. He and Habit had a rather rocky past, to be quite frank.

It wasn’t that Habit had ever actually done anything to him, or that they’d fought on a regular basis in the past, but they weren’t on the greatest terms. Thing was, Habit was a pretty hard to please person. From what Noah could tell, he just didn’t have what it took to keep Habit happy with his presence, or even remotely interested in him. At worst, Habit was moody, confrontational, and incredibly aggressive towards him, and at best he merely ignored his presence. On the very rare occasion that Habit was feeling friendly, they didn’t really have much to talk about, and Habit’s friendly mood would fade rather quickly, no matter how involved he was in their conversation.

Rumor had it that he’d been even worse than usual here lately, too, which didn’t do much to change Noah’s mind about how he felt about hanging out with Habit.

Finally, realizing how long he’d been standing in the train car looking like an idiot while he was lost in his thoughts, he bustled off. He cast a glance around, but didn’t see anybody he recognized, so he continued on out. In front of the station stood Evan and Habit.

Although, Habit was leaning moreso than he was standing.

Awesome.

Catching sight of him, Evan’s face lit up and he waved excitedly. “Yo, Noah! Over here, bud!”

His anxiety subsided a bit. Seeing Evan, seeing him excited, was somewhat relaxing. He was like a goddamned therapy dog.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the first time Noah had had that particular thought about him. Fortunately, relaying it aloud to Evan on the past occasions he’d thought of it had gotten fairly humorous results. But instead of addressing it this time, he just speed-walked his way over to them with a growing grin. “Hey,” His greeting and grin were directed more toward Evan, of course, but he did take a moment to give Habit his attention, too.

He swore Habit almost smiled.

It was probably just his imagination. Habit wouldn’t smile at him. Everybody else, sure, but not him.

“Glad to have you back in Jersey.” Evan threw an arm around his shoulder. “C’mon, Habit actually bought a car, so we’re driving to your motel this time - although you could’ve just stayed with me.” As usual, Evan rambled while they walked and Noah let him because, honestly? It was cute. “-oh, and I was thinkin’ maybe we could have a bonfire at some point?”

Oh. He’d actually been planning something this time? Not just talking out his ass? Huh, maybe he’d finally grown up a bit. However, the idea of a bonfire didn’t seem like a good one if Habit was going to be involved, which he inevitably was. Oh well, wasn’t his place to say.

And if Habit was there, that just meant it’d be a big fire.

They’d reached the car at last, though Noah knew they hadn’t been walking for nearly as long as he thought they had, he just had a shit sense of time recently. And of direction. And of self-worth, self-preservation, and self in general. He was losing himself to his problems and he didn’t like it, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do, that he knew of.

He paused to examine the car. It was a late sixties or early seventies Ford Thunderbird, painted black. It was _sharp_. He’d always figured Habit would be more a truck person, but classics seemed like his thing, too. After all, he listened to Frank Sinatra unironically and liked swing music, so…

“Nice car.” He complimented as Habit unlocked it.

To his shock, Habit actually grinned at him. “Thanks, man. She’s my baby.” He patted the roof as he opened the driver’s side door.

“How much did she cost?” He opened his own door. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Evan with a somewhat conflicted look on his face. He seemed completely ecstatic that Habit was being sociable for once, but also somewhat angry. Noah briefly wondered why, but decided not to address it. “Seems like a classic like her would be expensive.”

“Nah.” Habit was already buckling himself in. “She was only five grand - in great shape, too.”

Noah whistled in appreciation, settling into his seat and placing his bags between his legs on the floorboard. Evan, sighing in defeat outside of the car, climbed into the passenger’s seat and got situated. Almost before his belt had clicked, Habit was pulling out of his parking space. Noah had to admit, the engine sounded _nice_. It didn’t roar, but it wasn’t silent either. It hummed gently, and he was sure Habit had done a great deal of work to make it like that.

It was a comforting sound, too, and he was so very, very tired… He’d been up since yesterday morning - surely a short nap would be okay? Yeah, yeah, a short nap was all he needed. The sound of the engine lulled him to sleep. Later he’d dare to say it was the best sleep he’d had in months - maybe even years.

The moment he was out of consciousness, Evan gave a soft huff in the front seat. Habit shot a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. Had Evan finally caught on to something being wrong? Had Habit actually responding positively to Noah’s presence tipped him off? Out of _everything_ he’d been doing that was out of character, recently?

Sometimes, he really hated Evan.

“Habit.” Evan said after a moment of silence between them. He cast a glance at Noah in the back seat, as if to ensure that he was still asleep. He didn’t continue, though, which just made Habit sigh.

“Yes?”

Evan stayed quiet for a moment longer, and looking at him showed he appeared to be thinking. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and redirected his gaze to the road. This was going to be a fun conversation, he could tell. Almost as fun as shoving rusty nails into his corneas.

“Habit, you’ve been acting weird recently. Like… Weirder than usual.” Evan said plainly. He didn’t continue, seeming to expect Habit to understand the question behind the statement.

Habit understood, alright. He just chose not to answer. He didn’t see that going over well, honestly, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood for conflict. Weird - just a few minutes ago he’d been in the mood to kick somebody’s ass if they so much as looked at him wrong. But it seemed like the moment Noah had gotten within five feet of him, the urge to fight vanished, leaving him with the urge to cry or scream.

One of which, he’d been indulging far too much recently. The other… Well, he hadn’t really tried screaming about his problems, yet, but he was getting there.

“Habit.” Evan sighed after about five minutes.

“What are you expecting me to say to that, Evan?” Habit grumbled, “Maybe an ‘Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed!’?”

Evan groaned. “You _know_ what I was trying to say.”

“Then just fucking say it.” He shot him a glare. “I’m not going to answer your questions if you’re too much of a pussy to actually ask them.”

His brother visibly flinched at the glare, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. He went quiet for another couple of minutes, long enough for them to turn onto the street of Noah’s motel.

“What’s wrong, Hab?” He finally asked, just before they pulled into the parking lot.

Habit considered giving him a serious answer. Considered telling him what was wrong. But instead, he pulled into a parking space, looked him in the eye, and said, “Isn’t it obvious? Because it should be. Let me know when you figure it out.” He turned his gaze to the sleeping boy in the back seat. “Wake up, Maxwell.”

The boy jerked awake immediately, eyes somewhat wild as he looked around. He relaxed after he realized where he was. “Thanks for the ride, guys.” He smiled, trying to shake off the prior feeling of paranoia and terror.

“No problem.” Habit grunted.

Almost nervously, Noah got out of the car and grabbed his bags. “You guys can come into the room, once I get the key, if you wanna.”

Habit shrugged and turned off the car. “Sure.”

Evan shot Habit a look, but smiled at Noah. “Yeah, alright. Even if I didn’t want to, I don’t have much of a choice now.

Noah laughed as he headed into the motel office. There went his anxiety, again, just because of Evan. That guy deserved an award. Although… If it weren’t for Habit agreeing to stay, Evan wouldn’t have had an opening to cheer him up.

Screw it, give both of the Jennings boys awards.

Even if Habit _was_ an asshole.

Retrieving the room key from the clerk wasn’t hard, nor did it take very long, so when he emerged from the office about a minute and a half later he found the twins had barely had time to get out of the car. Evan was staring at Habit, looking somewhat irritated, and Habit was pointedly avoiding his gaze. Trouble in paradise? Noah certainly thought so.

“C’mon, guys, over here.” He motioned them toward the room he’d gotten for the next week or so. He wanted to say more, but… Well, he couldn’t think of anything. And if he was honest, he wasn’t willing to risk setting one of the brothers off by saying the wrong thing.

Evan could kick his ass six ways from Sunday without breaking a sweat and he had very little doubt that Habit could kill him without batting an eyelash about it.

Not two guys who were high on his list of people to piss off, that was for damn sure. Noah might have been a little dense sometimes, but he wasn’t completely stupid and he somewhat liked not dying at the hands of deranged sets of twins.

He unlocked the door to the room, very well aware of both brothers right behind him. For the first time in a long time, he found himself praying. Praying that he wasn’t about to die. That he wasn’t the cause of some sort of dispute between the brothers. Surely he wasn’t, right? It had to be something else that was making them give each other such dirty looks. Maybe Evan was being oblivious to something wrong with Habit? Or vice versa. Although Habit being oblivious to something was hard to believe - more likely that he’d be ignoring something wrong with Evan, while it was unlikely that Evan would ignore something wrong with Habit.

It was also hard to believe something was actually wrong with Habit aside from what Noah already figured out.

“So, any plans aside from that bonfire?” Noah joked as he flicked on the lights and tossed his bags onto the bed.

Evan’s mood seemed to brighten immediately. “Yeah, actually. I was kinda hoping we could all just chill in the usual spot today.”

Habit made a comment about that under his breath, but Noah didn’t have the energy to try and decipher it.

“Alright, cool. Do I have time to nap before then?” He raised a brow at the brothers.

He totally didn’t immediately feel dread when they mentioned the ‘usual spot’. Not at all. The idea of hanging out next to the woods didn’t cause him a single shred of anxiety, no way, no how. It was just a bunch of trees. Nothing to worry about. Trees could only hurt you if they fell on you.

Not like there was some kind of tall, eldritch monstrosity hiding in them or anything.

“Yeah, sure.” Habit scratched the back of his neck, looking quite bored.

 _There_ was the Habit that Noah knew. Disinterested and flat-toned. What a relief.

Evan shot Habit a look, regardless, making Noah wonder once again what was wrong. Maybe Evan was just testy because Habit was answering questions about _his_ plans. Noah tended to get angry about that sort of thing, too. It was believable.

“Don’t look at me like that. He needs sleep and we don’t usually get out there until three or four in the afternoon anyway.” Habit leveled an unimpressed glare at his brother.

Evan relented immediately. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “I forgot how annoying you two were when you’re together.”

“Hey, at least you can tell us apart now.” Evan joked.

“Yeah, when you smile or I look closely at your eyes.” He rolled his eyes again. “But when you’re arguing and I’m focusing more on backing away, not so much.”

The wrung a laugh out of Habit. “It’s like you’re scared of us or somethin’.”

“I’m only scared of getting caught in the crossfire of two guys I’d rather not purposely piss off for the sake of not getting my ass kicked.” Noah admitted without a hint of shame. “I might be taller than you two but I am not physically gifted and I stand no chance against a sociopath and a martial artist.”

“Oh, don’t be modest.” Evan waved a hand. “You could at least land a couple punches on me. Habit, though…”

“Long as I don’t pull a knife you’d probably stand at least a vague chance.” Habit shrugged.

Noah plopped down on the bed. “The chances of you not pulling a knife on me in a fight are slim to none, Habit.”

“Point.”

“So, like… The usual spot’s still that one place in the park, right?” Noah glanced at the clock. Habit was right, he should have time to nap - it was only noonish. But for the time being, he had guests to entertain and anxiety attacks to have.

“Yep.” Evan smiled at him, but then it dropped, and he furrowed his brows. “Noah, you look kinda pale. You feelin’ okay, bud?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Noah tried to smile back.

Habit gave him a knowing look, then hid it behind an unimpressed, blank stare. It was clear he wanted to say ‘no, you’re not’, but he… Didn’t. That wasn’t like Habit. Habit didn’t care _what_ you were uncomfortable about, he’d bring it up. He’d point it out if he knew something was up.

If Noah wasn’t anxious before, he was now.

“Well, if we want everybody to know, we should get going, Ev.” Habit said, instead. “Noah needs his nap.” He sneered, and Evan laughed as he made his way back out without complaint. Maybe Habit was just trying to be _almost_ considerate. Or he was faking him out...

But Habit paused in the doorway and sent Noah a look that clearly said, “You’re welcome.” And, instead of actually saying that, he asked, “You gonna need a ride, Maxwell?”

Noah shook his head.

He decided he should probably lay down before he started panicking.

* * *

Great. Habit had deja vu.

Why?

Because he was surrounded by all his friends making out with each other.

Fuck’s sake, where was Noah? Sure, he didn’t _like_ the guy - in fact, he barely knew him and wasn’t interested in knowing him -, but at least he didn’t have anybody to make out with. At least he could provide conversation. And, okay, sure, Stephanie could talk too, but he wasn’t particularly fond of Ms. ‘Damsel’.

Actually, you know what? As far as he was concerned, Damsel could go choke on a dirty cock. He knew it wasn’t _her_ fault Evan and Lyra got together, but she’d had the gall to act shitty about Evan saying yes to Lyra when she’d never said anything to him. Just like he had the gall to be shitty about it after never saying anything. He hated seeing that he wasn’t the only one being that petty. If it was just him, or just her, he’d be fine. But he couldn’t fucking stand that they were both in the same boat, because he knew what the fuck was wrong with himself that made him act like that.

He tried to tell himself he just didn’t want competition for being the “crazy friend”, but he knew the truth was he didn’t want to acknowledge that there was actually something _wrong_. Even if it was something minor, like being a petty piece of shit.

Seeing it in someone else made it a thing. It being a thing undermined his self-image, and that…

Wasn’t good for his mental health.

He tried to shrug it all off, of course, because that was what he always did to shit that was bad for his mental health. But it, as usual, wasn’t fucking working. He couldn’t ignore it if he had nothing else to focus on. He needed something to focus on. Like maybe a guy he barely knew and could focus on antagonizing?

He’d try doing that to someone that he actually knew, since he knew what buttons to push with them, but they were all busy with each other. That was inconvenient. And it meant he was stuck thinking about this shit until Noah showed up.

That was even more inconvenient.

Goddammit he hated his life.

He huffed and leaned up against the tree behind him, surveying the couples in front of them. Surely they couldn’t spend the _whole_ time snogging? A minute passed, then another, and he quickly decided that, yes, they _could_ spend the whole time snogging, and they likely intended to. How considerate. How hospitable.

He was really beginning to realize what shitty people his friends were.

Okay, that wasn’t fair. They weren’t shitty. They just had very little observational skill and didn’t realize they were being assholes. Or maybe they did and just thought he didn’t care, which was still an issue of observational skill. He was _obviously_ affected by this.

… But he did keep accompanying them places and not complaining.

Maybe he should say something? No. They’d try to place all the blame on him for being a ‘bad sport’ then. No, thanks, he degraded and blamed himself enough. He didn’t need their help. And even if they didn’t do that, they’d act like there was something wrong with him mentioning he wasn’t comfortable with them all making out with each other in front of him. Probably make fun of him because he was single, say that was why he wasn’t comfortable with it.

That wouldn’t be far off, exactly, but he didn’t really need that behavior out of them, either.

Better to just sit here and deal with it, because Vinny was about the only one who’d keep his mouth shut and that wasn’t enough.

He had to admit, he wasn’t actually expecting Noah to show up. With the way he’d reacted to the idea of being next to the woods… He looked like he was about to be sick. Or have a total meltdown. Sure, he’d agreed, but that didn’t mean he’d actually come. He could make some excuse to Evan about having passed out and stay in his motel room, and Evan would probably buy it. It was a long train ride and Noah had looked tired as hell… And Evan was just a huge fucking sucker sometimes.

That said, when Noah actually trudged toward him about fifteen minutes later, he was both shocked and, in a way, relieved.

“C’mon.” He grabbed him by the arm and started into the woods.

“Habit, what-”

“If I have to watch them make out for even one more second I will literally snap my own fucking neck, Noah, holy _fuck_.” He justified it immediately, before Noah could really process the fact that they were in the woods, “And I’d much rather be around you alone than be forced to stay out here with you _and_ everyone else.”

“You don’t _have_ to be here.” Noah noted, his arm tensed in Habit’s grip.

“My alternative is to sit at home alone and then listen to Evan bitch when he gets there.” He shot him a look and released his arm. “I’d rather just be in the general area and have an alibi.”

Noah understood the very pointed message behind that. The message of “you’ll vouch for me or you’ll regret it”. And he didn’t doubt it one bit.

Even without it, there were very few things in the world that could have convinced him to rat Habit out to Evan for not wanting to be there. Nobody deserved to have to listen to the ensuing bitching.

As for actually vouching for Habit… It was more likely he’d personally take the blame for him. Say he felt like going into the woods (a blatant lie) and Habit had come with him for some unknown reason (close enough). He wasn’t entirely sure where Habit was planning on taking him, though, and that was… Not doing anything good for his mental state. What if Habit was working for that thing? What if he was gonna kill him or take him to it?

He felt like he was going to throw up.


	3. Talk it Out

“So…” Noah said, after they’d walked for quite some time. “What’s got you so shitty with Evan?”

“Stop right there.” Habit glared at him out of the corner of his eye, “I don’t know you well enough to talk about this shit and I will literally choke slam you into the nearest jagged rock.”

“Whatever. We’ll never know each other if we don’t make an effort.”

“Dear lord, do _not_ give me any cliche Yu-Gi-Oh friendship speeches.”

“As if I’d stoop that low.” Noah rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying. If we don’t answer the occasional personal question we’ll never get anywhere in terms of knowing each other. It’s common sense.”

“What makes you think I _want_ to get to know you?”

“You really don’t get a choice. You dragged me out alone into the woods with you and I’m uncomfortable, so I’m gonna make you uncomfortable. While attempting to get to know you. Because I’m a nice guy like that.”

“What you are is a 17 year old alcoholic.” Habit huffed.

“You promised to keep your mouth shut about that.” Noah narrowed his eyes. Habit talking about that was the _last_ thing he needed. Especially if word got ‘round to Lyra about it.

He did _not_ have the energy for that lecture.

“And I will. I’m just antagonizing you.”

“Okay, better question.” Noah sighed. “Why are you wearing flannel when it’s 80 fuckin’ degrees outside?”

Habit’s eyes narrowed at him again. “Okay, better answer.” He mocked somewhat, “I don’t like you enough to let you ask me questions like that, Maxwell.”

“Yeah well, I asked it and I’m the only fucker around to hear the answer, so fuckin’ spill. Flannel at this time of year is just… Suspicious.”

Habit regarded him with those narrowed purple eyes for a moment longer. Long enough for Noah to start to wonder why Habit had, specifically, chosen purple contacts when he could have gotten any other color in the world.

“Fine.” He finally said, and Noah had to completely stop walking to stare at him.

“What?”

“You heard me.” Habit snapped. “I said, ‘fine’.”

“I thought so but I didn’t want to assume.” Noah shrugged. “Well?” He shot him a look, beginning to walk again.

“Let me just start by saying that you’re really fucking lucky you caught me on a good day.” He growled, clearly trying to be threatening.

Noah was starting to realize that Habit really wasn’t all that scary. He was just a normal guy - probably with normal issues. Being this close to him for more than five minutes was really making that obvious. “Mhm, sure, okay.”

“You’re only getting any kind of answers out of me because I respect you not being scared to ask.” He added.

“Okay.”

Habit seemed to wilt, suddenly, shoulders slumping, head hanging, and eyes directed at the ground. He didn’t speak for a moment, but Noah decided he’d better not push his luck. So he let him take the time to prepare his response.

“Not here.” He finally said. “Not while we’re walking.”

“You have a place to sit down?”

He was suspicious of that response. They were in the middle of woods, they could stop and sit down anywhere, but Habit didn’t seem to be thinking about that. Maybe he was stalling, trying to get out of answering…

“Actually, yeah.” He gave him a look, as if he knew Noah was questioning his motives. “I said I’d answer you, Maxwell. If I’m anything at all, I’m a man of my word.”

Noah nodded. “Alright, fine. As long as you actually answer me.”

“I will. Unless you pester me about it.”

_Duly noted_ , Noah thought. He knew a genuine warning when he heard one. It was masked as a threat not to answer, but he got the gist - ‘ _If you pester me, you’ll wish you hadn’t_.’

Fair enough.

There were a couple quiet moments of walking, where Noah almost managed to forget why he was afraid to be in the woods. Almost. Except that he kept catching glimpses of the reason out of the corner of his eye. Kept seeing it staring at him from between the trunks of the trees around him. Kept jumping at the sight only to turn his head and see there was nothing there.

Habit was silent beside him, but he could tell the guy was watching him pretty closely. Probably internally judging him to be a total basket case, if he knew Habit. And, honestly, that judgement really wouldn’t be too far off from the truth.

And it wasn’t nearly as offensive as Noah had expected it to be.

Being judged as a crazy person, he meant. He’d really thought it would sting more to know someone thought he was nuts. Maybe it was just because it was Habit, and he could appreciate the irony of _Habit_ thinking he was crazy, of all people.

Eventually, they came upon a picnic table in the middle of a small clearing. It was old, he could tell, the legs becoming mossy while vines climbed up to the tabletop. And was that a mushroom? Yeah. That was a mushroom growing steadily in the shade of the table. Kinda cute, if he was being honest.

Habit made his way to one side of the table, and for the sake of not getting into each other’s personal space Noah took the other side… After brushing some fallen leaves off the bench, of course. He noticed Habit didn’t even bother, so either he was _really_ out of it, or he just didn’t give a fuck. It was no surprise to him that he wasn’t sure which was more likely.

“Okay, this shouldn’t be too hard for you, Maxwell.” Habit began, giving Noah about two seconds to wonder what he meant before continuing, “Imagine you’re a sexually frustrated teenager.”

Noah wanted to be offended, but he chose to set his jaw and listen quietly.

Habit seemed to appreciate that as he continued. “Now imagine that you have a crush on one very particular person, a person who you happen to be quite close to regardless.” Another pause, as if to let Noah envision it. “Now, you’ve got that crush going on, and you just so happen to have a brother.”

“A twin brother?” Noah couldn’t help but quip.

“Twin isn’t necessary, but sure.” Habit rolled his eyes. “Anyway, this crush? They’ve got a thing for your brother.” Noah actually physically flinched at that idea. “And your brother, to your knowledge, has a thing for someone else. So, you assume that your crush will eventually get, well, _crushed_ , because your brother is clueless and interested in someone else and your crush is typically kind of a pussy about their feelings and would never in a million years actually _tell_ your brother they like him.” Habit had to pause, yet again, this time to take a breath. “But then… Then she _does_ . She _tells_ him, and you’re not worried because, hey, he likes somebody else and he’ll let her down easy. But he _doesn’t_ . He tells her he feels the same and they get together and you have to sit by and watch them be happy together when the _only_ reason you didn’t ever tell her how you feel is because you wanted her to be over your brother before you made a move. And then, to add insult to injury, they both start to shove you onto the back burner, and it’s only when you’re nice to someone that you usually hate that either of them starts to figure out you’re silently crying for help, but they’re too stupid to fucking figure out _why_.”

He stopped, suddenly, taking another deep breath, and put his head in his hands. Noah observed him without a word for a second or two before turning his mind to what all had been said. It was, admittedly, a lot to take in. It was kind of just… Basically a feelings dump.

What was he supposed to get out of all of that, exactly?

“Well…” He eventually said, “That sucks, dude, but that doesn’t explain why you’re wearing flannel in 80 degree weather.”

“The hell it fucking doesn’t.” Habit snapped, even as he unbuttoned the cuff of one of his sleeves and shoved the fabric up to his elbow.

Noah didn’t even have time to wonder what Habit meant, because the second the fabric was pushed up, his eyes caught on the angry red fresh cuts and comparably dull brown scabs on the other’s arm. Well, he knew Habit had a history of depression - that was kind of a given. It was just another one of the many things he and Evan had in common. It was just that… Honestly, Evan showed it better when he was depressed. Evan acted the way you expected someone with depression to act - overly happy or completely shut down. But during what Evan pinpointed as Habit’s depressions, Habit just…

Well, he didn’t act like himself, and Noah felt kind of dumb for missing a sign like that. He’d been remarking on Habit acting different the whole time and yet he hadn’t made the connection until now.

Then again, Evan was full of shit sometimes and Noah tended to take everything he said with a pinch of salt.

Noah knew he’d missed his chance to say anything when Habit slowly rolled his sleeve back down and buttoned the cuff. Not because Habit had eliminated the thing he’d have commented on, but because Habit’s body language had turned from sorrowful to completely closed off. He’d crossed his arms, directed his gaze firmly at the tabletop, and slouched forward.

If he had any nervous tics, he’d probably start performing them soon enough.

… If he didn’t cry first.

Wait, _what_ ? Where did _that_ come from? Habit, crying? That was unheard of. That was something everyone who was close to him could agree on when they were talking to Noah - Habit didn’t cry. He considered it a sign of weakness and, according to Lyra, he hadn’t cried since he was something like five years old, and honestly she could have been wrong about it being him who’d cried that day.

Noah hadn’t known them at the time, but he’d seen pictures, and Habit and Evan had been indistinguishable from each other up until their 10th birthday, when Habit made the decision to start wearing his fangs and contacts, which had been birthday gifts.

Probably from himself.

Noah couldn’t think of anybody in their right minds who would feed that boy’s (at the time) vampire obsession. He didn’t know why Habit had picked _purple_ contacts, in that case, but maybe they were supposed to be red and just weren’t potent enough to cover his bright blue eyes?

Nah. More likely they were actually purple.

He regretted his temporary lapse in attention when he noticed Habit’s face was now hidden behind his hair and his shoulders were shaking. He wasn’t making any noise, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he wasn’t-

Oh. That was _definitely_ a sob, even if it was choked and cut off. Noah felt… He wasn’t sure how to describe it. It felt _wrong_ to be seeing Habit cry, to be there to witness something like that.

It was entirely too personal. They barely knew each other and yet he was seeing something that no one else got to see. The intimacy of it scared him.

“Shit, man,” He said before he could stop himself, “Are you… Crying?”

Habit’s shoulders stiffened. He lifted his arm to scrub his face against his sleeve, muttering a shaky sounding, “Fuck no.” as he did so.

“... Do you want a hug?”

“If you try to hug me, I will break your god damned arms.”

“Fair enough.”

Habit sagged again, sighing. “Actually… A hug would be pretty nice.” He admitted, barely loud enough for Noah to hear him.

Noah said nothing, this time. He just got up, slid into the seat next to Habit, and wrapped an arm around him. Habit returned the awkward, one-armed side hug, swallowing and obviously trying not to sob. Noah wasn’t going to bother him about it - if he didn’t want to cry, it was his business and Noah had no right to try to make him.

Not only because that would be rude, but because it sounded _really_ shitty when you thought about it.

They sat there for a bit before Habit retracted his arm and shrugged the shoulder Noah’s hand laid on. Noah could take a hint; he removed his arm from around him and retook his seat on the other side of the table. Another silence followed, during which Habit seemed to compose himself, wiping his eyes on his sleeve again.

He lifted his head after that moment was over and looked Noah dead in the eyes. Noah cringed at the intensity of the gaze, finding his own wandering over Habit’s shoulder to avoid the discomfort. He wished, as soon as his eyes focused on something, that he’d settled for being stared down by someone that had eyes.

He heard Habit make the usual threats - “Tell anyone and I’ll kill you”, or something similar. He wasn’t really listening. He couldn’t. All of his senses were honed in on the distant, faceless man between the trees. His instincts told him to run. Scream.

He did the latter, first, startling Habit, who nearly fell backwards off his bench. Then he did the former, scrambling up off the bench, turning, and bolting further into the woods.

Behind him, he had enough presence of mind to hear Habit yell, “The fuck are you running from?”

Despite his qualms with it, and his desire not to get him involved, he was overcome with something that he could only refer to as an indescribable sense of pure vindictiveness. So he called back to Habit, “Look behind you.”

He didn’t pay much attention to whatever happened after that. The world around him sort of blurred and ran together until he emerged, coughing, from the woods some time later. Habit was right behind him, closer than he’d been to begin with. Noah didn’t care enough to think about it. He just collapsed against an outlying tree and continued to cough.

Until the coughing became vomiting.

There was only one decent heave, only one that brought up anything. He spat bile onto the ground afterwards, coughing a bit more and wiping his mouth. He stayed leaned against the tree even as his breathing evened out and his stomach settled. He didn’t exactly trust his legs to keep him on his feet if he didn’t have something to support him. Not yet.

“Maxwell, what the _fuck_ was that?” Habit finally asked, clearly displeased, if not somewhat shaken.

Noah turned around, slow and careful, and looked at him. “I don’t know.” He mumbled. His throat ached.

All Habit saw, looking at him, was a tired, scared, physically sick teenager. As much as he wanted to say “ _bullshit!_ ” and grill him on that… That _thing_ they’d seen in the woods, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. What little human decency he had wouldn’t let him be that much of a bother to someone who looked so miserable.

Funny, considering he’d seen Evan, Jeff, and Vinny look like that countless times and he’d never felt bad for being a bother to them at the time.

Noah watched as the conviction faded from Habit’s expression. He watched it turn to vague confusion, followed by the barest hints of irritation, and then concern.

“I’ll grill you about this shit later. You look ready to drop. I’m taking you back to your motel room.”

Noah’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait… Really?”

“Yes. Really. Don’t make me regret it. C’mon.” He offered Noah a hand, likely to pull him away from the tree.

Noah hesitated, then took the hand and pushed off the tree. Habit didn’t even take a moment to think about what he was doing before he wrapped an arm around Noah and maneuvered Noah’s arm over his shoulders. Noah thought it was better not to complain or question what was happening. He just went along with it.

“... Do you even know which way your car is?” He ended up asking regardless of his decision.

“Shockingly enough, yes.” Habit snorted. “It’s a little far. You tell me if you need a break or something.”

Noah was somewhat taken aback. Habit actually sounded… He actually sounded concerned. And Noah wasn’t sure how to feel about that, because it was just so unlike Habit. But then, hadn’t he just recently been thinking about the fact that Habit was acting strange and that pointed toward him being depressed?

Maybe he was only taking pity on him like this because Noah had listened to his spiel and hadn’t judged.

The sun was setting when they arrived at Habit’s car.

Noah dozed off on the way back to the motel.

He only woke when Habit pulled up to the room and parked the car. He swallowed and looked to Habit for a moment, twiddling his thumbs. Habit didn’t seem in a hurry to get him out of the vehicle, but he also didn’t seem in a hurry to socialize.

Noah couldn’t blame him.

But he could make a request. He _wanted_ to make a request. The issue was that he couldn’t get his mouth to open. He didn’t want to be rebuffed and disappointed.

“You got somethin’ to say?” Habit grunted. “Cuz if not, I’d like to be able to get home.”

Noah flinched. “Something to ask, actually.”

“Shoot.”

He hesitated. Then, “Don’t leave me here by myself. Please - I need to be around someone for a while. I always panic worse after seeing that thing if there’s nobody around to to distract me.”

Habit gave him a long side-eye before he shut off the car without another word and got out. Noah pushed his own door open, and the two of them entered the motel room quietly, one after the other.


	4. Just Explain!

“Anybody seen Habit?” Evan glanced around, brows furrowing in concern.

“Not since he fucked off with Noah earlier.” Jeff shrugged. “Think they’re foolin’ around out there?”

Evan shook his head. Of _course_ that’s the first place Jeff’s mind would go. He really wished the guy would pull it out of the gutter from time to time, but that was an unfair desire. Sure, Jeff spent a lot of his time making sex jokes and it got annoying from time to time, but wishing he’d get his mind out of the gutter implied it dwelled there enough to _need_ to get out. Which was wrong. Because Jeff was a pretty non-sexual person, typically, regardless of his jokes.

“No, I doubt that’s the first thing those two would do out in the woods.” He said, “More likely that Habit would threaten Noah’s life and steal all his money.” A snort, “And _then_ there might be some ‘fooling around’.”

“I’ll text him.” Lyra rolled her eyes. “And I’m sure we’d hear it if they were fooling... Or at least we’d hear Noah screaming for help.”

That earned her a few laughs, and one rather uncomfortable look from Jessa. She didn’t particularly care. It was just a joke. She removed her phone from her pocket and shot a text at Habit, as she’d said she would.

[8:28pm] _Where are you?_

She put her phone back in her pocket and waited for a response.

Twenty minutes later, there was still no reply, and she frowned. That really wasn’t like Habit. Sure, he took some time to respond, especially here lately, but never more than ten minutes. Double that meant something was wrong.

Or that he was asleep, but Habit didn’t usually sleep until at least 11.

[8:52pm] _Habit?_

Still no response.

“Guys? I think something’s wrong.”

“What makes you say that?” Jeff raised his brows. “Hasn’t he texted back?”

“No, he hasn’t.” She frowned. “It’s been almost half an hour and he usually texts back quicker than that.”

“Maybe he’s busy?”

“Nah,” Evan shook his head before she could. “Habit always answers text messages within five to ten minutes if he’s capable.”

“Maybe they really are fooling around out there.” Steph shrugged. “... But we should maybe check Noah’s motel room? I mean, maybe they headed back there to get away from all the smooching going on here.” The flat tone made all those around her sort of shift uncomfortably.

“Yeah, maybe.” Vinny said. “I’ll head over there and take a look.” He reluctantly let go of Lexi and pulled his keys from his jacket.

“We’ll go too.” Lyra said immediately, tugging Evan toward where they all knew Vinny’s car was parked. Evan didn’t seem particularly pleased, but didn’t argue with her about it.

Vinny nodded his agreement and pushed the button on his keychain to unlock the car and disable the alarm once they were within range of it. Evan grudgingly plopped himself into the backseat of the passenger’s side while Lyra slid into the driver’s side. The drive to the motel was a short one, but it was no more pleasant to Evan than the idea of talking to his twin at the moment.

Habit had been a real asshole today. And yesterday. And the day before that. _And_ the day before that, and so on and so forth… But now that he’d finally decided the mean streak meant something and made efforts to find out what it was and how he could help, Habit had somehow gotten _worse_.

He wasn’t sure how that was possible, he just knew it was really, _really_ annoying and that if Habit kept it up much longer he might deck him.

Habit’s Thunderbird was parked in front of the room, confirming to them that he was indeed there, and a light was on inside.

Vinny seemed to be considering something as he left the car. Evan didn’t really feel up to asking what it was, because he was fairly sure that it involved the idea Jeff had planted in all their heads back at their usual spot, and he in no way needed that image in his head all over again.

He and Lyra climbed out together and followed Vinny to the door. Lyra was the first to gather enough strength and courage to knock on the door. There was a brief moment of silence prior to Noah’s weak voice calling, “Come in!”

Lyra pushed the door open and stepped inside hesitantly, Evan right behind her. Both were relieved to find Noah laying in bed, alone, while Habit sat on the edge of the bed and sort of glared at him. Both were fully clothed, there was no evidence of any shenanigans, and Habit was definitely not in the kind of mood that would have been brought about by having sex. And neither was Noah.

Noah looked physically sick - he was green in the face and very pale. He attempted to sit up to greet them. His struggling seemed to amuse Habit somewhat, who began to smirk as he fell back onto the bed after his shaking arms went out from under him.

The smirk dropped from Habit’s face when he saw them. “Somebody stay here and take care of this loser. I’m going home.”

He stood and shoved past them before they could say much about it. Evan wanted to call after him, but chose not to. This wasn’t a conversation they needed to have in front of anyone else. It could wait until they got home.

The problem was getting home without a vehicle - not that it was particularly hard to walk across town to their house, that was, it was just that he wasn’t likely to make it there before curfew unless he ran the whole way.  Not something he was particularly interested in doing today. Some other time, maybe.

“I’ll stay with Noah, I guess.” Vinny said, as if he could tell that Evan wanted to go home and talk to Habit. “You guys should hitch a ride with Habit.”

“Yeah, alright.” Lyra didn’t hesitate to exit. “Hey, Habs, wait up!”

Habit paused halfway into his car, raising an eyebrow at her, though Evan had a hard time seeing it in the growing darkness.

“Could we maybe catch a ride home?”

For a moment, Habit didn’t reply. Then, he nodded and got into his car without a word. Evan was really starting to get tired of his unusual behavior, but he had to admit that Habit not talking was kind of a blessing of some sort. He didn’t need Habit’s sass at the moment.

They got into his car and he was driving before they even had a chance to get buckled in.

“My place, please.” Lyra chimed at him from the back seat.

Habit just nodded again.

“You okay, bro? You never answered my texts.” She asked after a moment.

“Left my phone in the car.” Habit shrugged. “Wasn’t really thinking about it considering Maxwell was about to blow chunks and I didn’t want any of that getting in here.”

“Oh. Fair enough.”

Evan wanted to call his bluff, but when he checked the place where Habit always kept his phone, there it was. Right where he’d said it was. He still wasn’t sure he believed that story, though. Habit never forgot his phone, _ever_. Even if he didn’t plan on using it he took it with him so Lyra could reach him if she needed to.

Wait.

Lyra.

Habit had been shitty with them ever since the night Lyra stayed with Evan rather than him. Was this all because Habit was jealous that Lyra was spending more time with his brother? Or was it…

Oh, God, had he heard them that night?

… Had he been the one crying?

No wonder he was shitty with them, if that was the case. Habit _hated_ crying. But that did beg the question of why hearing them had been enough to make him cry. Maybe he was lonely? Or maybe he’d been crying for another reason already and then hearing them just made it worse? That seemed more likely. And maybe he was so angry because Evan had technically heard him, which was a huge insult in Habit’s eyes.

If he didn’t want you to see or hear him crying, you didn’t, not unless you wanted him to give you hell about it.

* * *

Lyra’s house came and went, and once she’d scrambled up the drive into it, the car fell into an uncomfortable silence. One she’d been helping to avoid quite expertly with soft humming, quiet chatter, and the tapping of her fingers on the door.

The silence was unsettling; bothersome. Habit was never quiet for this long, but Evan wasn’t about to try and break the quiet. For now, it was calm and Habit wasn’t lashing out. Trying to talk to him would turn into an argument, and Evan wasn’t fond of the idea of getting into an argument with Habit in his car. Not only did he not want Habit to crash when the argument inevitably escalated into a fight, but he also didn’t want to be left on the side of the road if Habit decided to kick him out of the car.

Knowing his brother the way he did, he knew Habit would leave him there and let him walk home alone.

Not something he was particularly interested in doing at the moment.

So he waited until they pulled into the driveway before he started to speak, “Habit, I need to talk to you.”

“No you don’t.” Habit immediately replied as he snatched his phone from its spot. “You _want_ to talk to me.” He shoved his door open after yanking his keys out. “And I don’t want to talk to you.”

Evan jumped out before Habit could lock him in. It wouldn’t be bad, per se, but it would be annoying. And being annoyed really wasn’t something he particularly needed at the moment, because it would turn this into a fight and it didn’t need to be that serious. It was just about Habit being an asshole, which was pretty normal and nothing to be particularly concerned about.

Except he was concerned. And he knew very well that he needed to be because something was obviously wrong if he was being _this_ much of a dick.

“Habit, c’mon.” He almost begged. He hated it, but maybe it would garner a better response.

Instead, Habit just scowled at him and went into the house.

When he followed, Habit turned on him, still scowling, and said, “Not now. At least let me fucking eat something before you bring up whatever’s so important you think you ‘ _need_ ’ to talk to me.”

“Alright.” Evan agreed. “I can do that.”

“Good. Because I’m hungry and not in the mood for this.”

He stalked into the kitchen and Evan chose to wait in the living room for him. Common sense told him it was best not to broach this subject while Habit was among weapons; likewise, everything he knew about Habit told him the same thing. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t have all night to try and get an answer out of Habit.

Twenty minutes later, Evan heard Habit wash his plate, then listened as his heavy boots clomped into the living room behind him.

“Alright. Shoot, I guess.” Habit grumbled reluctantly.

Evan turned to him, wanting to have some sort of eye contact while they did this, but Habit was looking everywhere except him. He guessed he couldn’t really blame him, Habit probably knew exactly what this was about.

Common sense was, now, telling him that he really shouldn’t try his luck by bringing this up twice in one day.

He ignored it.

“Is it because of me and Lyra?” He asked. Straight-forward, to the point. Habit would appreciate the approach, he was sure - his brother hated it when people beat around the bush.

Habit’s eyes slowly moved to meet his. Was that a confirmation?

“... Is there anything we can-?”

Habit was already walking out of the room before he could finish.

“Habit, c’mon, we need to talk about this!”

No response. Oh, well, Habit would probably just go up to his room and Evan could try again in the morning. No big whoop.

… And then the front door slammed shut.

Fuck.

_Big_ whoop.

* * *

“I don’t have to sit through this.” Habit muttered to himself as he kicked the front door closed behind him. “And I won’t. I’m not listening to his shit. He finds out it really is their fault he’ll just…”

The mumbling continued as he walked, and it was only when he finally stopped talking to himself that he realized he had forgotten to get in his car. And he was nearly a mile away from the house already. And Evan was probably going to come looking for him.

No going back to get his car, then. Not knowing how Evan was. He’d see him coming back and assume he’d just left to cool off, which was technically true, but he’d also assume that he was cooled off already, which was _so_ wrong. Pissed off as he was, it wasn’t really Evan’s fault he was angry (after all, he was more angry at himself for overreacting to Evan’s questioning than he was at the questioning itself, now) and he didn’t want to chance seriously hurting him. Because he knew he’d go off if Evan so much at looked at him wrong when he got back.

So he kept walking. He didn’t really pay attention to where he was going, because it didn’t really matter. Who cared where he ended up? Not him, that was for damn sure.

… As long as he didn’t end up in the woods with that _thing_ again, that was.

Unknowingly, his footsteps carried him back to the motel after that. He knew why, of course. He knew exactly what his body had in mind.

Go back to the motel, kick Vinny out, and grill that snot nosed Floridan on what he knew about that _thing_. He had to know _something_ about it. Obviously he knew enough about it to know he shouldn’t stick around when he saw it, so what else did he know?

Hopefully, Habit was about to find out.

He kicked a rock out of his way as the motel came into view. Deep breath; it was _showtime_.

Thankfully, there was still a light on inside. A glance at his phone showed that he had two missed calls from Evan, and that the time was 10:03. He didn’t particularly care about either, but it was nice to know that he wouldn’t be sending Vinny home after curfew. He wasn’t _completely_ heartless, and Vinny’s parents would have a fit and a half if he came home after 10:30, let alone 11.

Probably a good thing he lived less than a mile from the motel and he had his car.

He didn’t bother knocking on the door and just strode right in, startling both boys in the room. Vinny sat next to the desk while Noah still laid on the bed. He looked considerably less sick than he had an hour or so ago - good for him. Just meant he was more likely to get answers.

“Go ahead and get home, Vin. Maxwell and I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

Vinny didn’t seem particularly thrilled with that choice of words, but he got up anyway. He shot a, “See ya,” at them over his shoulder and then he was gone.

Noah sat up and scooted himself up to the headboard, as if he knew he needed to be alert. As if he knew what was coming. Not that Habit would be particularly surprised to find he did know what was happening. There were only so many things that Habit could refer to as unfinished business, and he was predictable enough that Noah would probably realize it wasn’t about his little feelings spiel earlier.

“Alright, go ahead, ask.” Noah said after they heard Vinny drive away.

“What the _fuck_ was that thing? What do you know about it?” Was Habit’s immediate reply - he hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for permission, but apparently…

Whatever.

“Sit down.” Noah sighed. “This is a long story.” Only after Habit obeyed did he continue. “Okay, honestly, long story short - I’ve been seeing that thing for like… A year now. Maybe two. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but it started showing up after my cousin, Milo, killed himself.”

Habit sort of cringed, at that. Not what he’d been expecting. “I’m… Sorry.”

Noah rolled his eyes with a snort. “I don’t need your sarcasm, Jennings.”

Habit didn’t bother telling him he wasn’t being sarcastic. Not like he’d believe him, given Habit’s rather innate ability to be sarcastic pretty much 24/7, so instead he said. “Tell me everything you know about it, Maxwell. I’m not walking into this shitstorm blind and deaf if I can help it.”

Noah just sighed again. “Not now, Habit. I’ll explain some other time.”

Habit scowled. There was really no use arguing it, he knew, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Didn’t mean he had to necessarily agree, either. He watched Noah and Noah watched him back. They continued like that for a long, tense few moments before Habit finally said. “Fine. But it had better be soon.”

“Fair enough.” Was all Noah said.

There was another rather long silence, during which Habit actually began to doze off, before Noah said, “So what brought you back here, Habit? Aside from wanting answers, that is.”

“None of your business.”

Noah rolled his eyes again, then watched quietly as Habit adjust himself to be more comfortable on the edge of the bed. “It’s about Evan and Lyra, isn’t it?”

Habit didn’t answer.

Noah figured that was confirmation enough.

He slid down the bed, turned off the light, and gave Habit’s back a gentle pat before he rolled over and tried to get comfortable himself. If Habit minded sharing a bed with him, he’d get over it, because he obviously wasn’t walking home now. There was no way he’d get there before curfew, which meant Habit really wouldn’t want to deal with it, and Noah wasn’t heartless enough to kick him out and make him.

Besides, it was nice to have company, even if it _was_ Habit goddamned Jennings. He was turning out to not be so bad of a person to be around, death glares and thinly veiled threats aside.

Noah drifted off to sleep wondering if he and Habit could ever actually be anything more than grudging acquaintances.

His mind told him the answer was probably “no”, but he could hope, couldn’t he?


	5. Can't Wake Up

Habit woke up with a sore neck and a stiff lower back.

He didn’t wait around for Noah to wake up before he stumbled out of the motel room and stalked his way back home. His parents were going to be _pissed_ , Evan was going to be nosey, and he was probably going to have some sort of panic attack from all of it at once. He wasn’t looking forward to it in the slightest.

He already knew, before he slid in the front door, that there was no way in hell he was escaping his parents’ wrath. They _had_ to be awake by now - they both had work in half an hour.

At least that meant he wouldn’t have to listen to too much of their screaming.

Not that they actually did a whole lot of screaming, but still. He wasn’t eager to be chastised this early in the morning, and he was glad that they both had to work so that he could escape anything serious. Chances were they wouldn’t be nearly mad enough after work to pursue it further.

“ _Habit Jennings_.”

His mother’s voice was the first he heard as he attempted to sneak past the kitchen. He stopped with one foot on the stairs, taking a deep breath. _Don’t explode. Don’t explode_. “Yes, Mom?” He turned to her slowly, carefully.

“Where the _hell_ did you go last night?” His father cut in before she could respond.

“You can’t just go runnin’ off in the middle of the night!” His mother added.

“I-”

“And stayin’ out all night, too!” His mother was fuming. “I oughta…”

“You oughta calm down.” Habit replied with an amount of patience that surprised even him. “I went to see Noah before curfew, ended up falling asleep on the floor. Figured you probably didn’t want to see a call or text from me at eleven-something at night _just_ to tell you I was staying in his hotel room for the night because it was after curfew.”

Both of his parents stared for a moment. His mother eventually huffed and retreated back to the kitchen, hands in the air in surrender. She’d accepted the excuse. Now to see if dear ol’ dad would do the same…

“Habit, I’m proud of you.” His father said. “That was a very calm and rational response. I’m glad to see you finally getting a hold on your temper.”

“Thanks, Dad.” He gave him a tired smile.

“Not a problem, champ.” He returned it and then followed Habit’s mother into the kitchen.

Habit could smell meat of some kind cooking, but he was too tired and, dare he say it, too _disinterested_ in food to give it much thought. Sure, he was hungry, but he just… Didn’t want to eat, if that made any sense. His stomach growled, and he ignored it.

He headed up to his room and locked the door.

And he stayed there.

* * *

“Hey, Habit?” Evan knocked lightly on his brother’s door. “You in there, bro?”

He glanced around. Nearly nightfall, and Habit hadn’t so much as unlocked the door. He had to admit he was starting to worry his brother had done something stupid.

From inside the room, there was a soft thump, followed by a groan that was more annoyed than pained. “What do you want?”

“We’re having that bonfire tonight. You wanna come?” Evan crossed his fingers - he really wanted Habit to come, if only to get him to socialize, and maybe find out what the hell was wrong.

Shuffling footsteps approached the door. The lock clicked and the doorknob turned, and out peeked a somewhat disheveled Habit. He wasn’t wearing his contacts; not a terribly huge surprise, considering he’d probably been sleeping prior to his knocking. “Yeah, sure. Gimme like…” He glanced behind him, presumably at his clock. His gaze returned to Evan. “Ten minutes.”

“You got it, bro.”

Habit grunted and shut the door.

Ten minutes later he shuffled out in a long-sleeved black shirt and blue jeans. Not an unusual outfit, for Habit, so Evan couldn’t figure out what, exactly, seemed so wrong about it. It wasn’t until they were already at Lyra’s house waiting for her to get out to the car that Evan realized it.

Habit hadn’t worn a t-shirt in _weeks_. _Months_ , actually. It wasn’t normal for Habit, and Evan felt stupid for not having realized it sooner. He wondered, for about two seconds, why he might have been wearing only long-sleeved shirts. But then he almost smacked himself.

He _knew_ why Habit was wearing long sleeves. There were all of four possible reasons and only three of them were really plausible during summer.

“Habit.” He said, even as he saw Lyra coming out of her front door. “Roll up your sleeve.”

Habit tensed. “Fuck no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t fucking have to?” Habit suggested, shooting him a venomous glare.

“... Cuts, burns, or bruises, Hab?”

Habit, if at all possible, tensed further. He shot him another look, but this one was more scared than angry, and Evan felt _guilty_.

“One, two, or three?” He asked again when Lyra was only a few feet away. Maybe that would make it easier for Habit to answer.

He was silent until Lyra’s hand was on the door handle, staring straight ahead, jaw clenched. “... One.”

Evan’s heart dropped into his shoes. “Hab, I-”

Lyra’s door opened and she plopped into the back seat. “Hey Hab, hey baby.”

He saw Habit flinch slightly. “Hey.” He muttered.

“Hey, babes.” Evan smiled at her, despite feeling distinctly… He didn’t know. He felt _wrong_ saying it with Habit right next to him.

He didn’t understand.

* * *

The bonfire was actually going fairly well, Habit would admit. Sure, Evan had stuck to him like glue for the first twenty minutes or so, but after that he was left alone while Evan and Lyra roasted marshmallows. About ten minutes in, everyone else showed up, including Jeff’s younger brother, Alex. Jeff had, apparently, not wanted to leave him at home when there was absolutely no reason he should have to stay there.

Alex was just happy to be included, Habit thought.

After some time, Noah gravitated toward him, sitting down on a log next to him. “So. Sleep well last night?” It wasn’t an accusation - it was an honest question, soft and gentle, as if Noah didn’t want to chance making him angry.

Probably a good idea, if Habit was being entirely honest.

“Not really, no.” Habit replied with a frown. “You?”

“No. I never sleep very well here recently.”

“That sucks.”

They didn’t say anything else for a while, just listening to the others laugh and talk amongst themselves.

“... Want to make s’mores?” Habit finally asked.

“Sure.” Noah shrugged.

Habit got up, retrieving the marshmallows and other supplies from whoever had them at the time, taking his seat on the log next to Noah’s. They began to talk, after a bit, mostly on the quality of burnt marshmallows vs. unburnt marshmallows.

“The burnt ones taste better.” Habit said as he peeled the burnt outer shell off of his, plopping the gooey innards onto the graham cracker and chocolate. He grinned at Noah’s rather disgusted face as he ate only the burnt shell before he enclosed the gooey remains in the graham crackers.

Noah looked to his own marshmallow, which was currently on fire and becoming quite crispy. “I agree, but I can’t just eat the burnt part.” He plopped the whole thing onto his graham cracker and chocolate after he blew the flame out. “I have to eat the whole thing.”

“Yeah, I hear that a lot.” Habit snorted. “Seems like everybody has that opinion but me.”

“What were you expecting? Eating just the burnt part is gross.”

“Just eat your s’more before I eat it for you.” Habit threatened as he ate his own.

Noah quickly went about eating his. No way in hell was he letting someone else take his s’mores, he only got to eat genuine ones when he was up here. It was kind of hard for him to roast marshmallows down in Florida when he had literally no friends in his home town. Sure, he could invite the ones that lived close by over for a bonfire but they’d probably have something they needed to do that would get in the way of them being able to come.

“Hey… This spot taken?”

Noah looked up to see Alex hovering hesitantly next to Habit. His eyes flickered between the two of them and the empty space on the log beside Habit.

“Nah.” Habit scooted toward the end of the log to give Alex more room. “Go ahead and park it here, kiddo.”

Alex smiled in relief, sitting down next to him. “Thanks, Hab.”

“No problem, my favorite Koval.” He ruffled his hair, and Alex practically giggled.

“Am I really?” He was almost glowing.

“Yep. Definitely. Marshmallow?” He offered him one.

“Oh, yeah!” He accepted it. “Thanks!”

“No problem, kiddo.”

They lapsed back into a comfortable silence. Finally, Alex said, “Hey, can I tell you guys about something?”

“Sure thing.” Habit said, immediately followed by Noah saying, “Yeah, of course.”

He shifted a bit. “Well, see, I’ve been having these weird nightmares lately? And I just wanted to get ‘em off my chest.”

“Alright, shoot.”

And he did. He explained his nightmares to the best of his ability. He told them about the strange being that haunted him - a humanoid beast with long claws and eyes that nearly glowed. It whispered to him, telling him terrible things that were going to happen. He did his best to ignore it, not to believe it, but he couldn’t be sure how well he was doing because the dreams were really starting to get to him. He mentioned that one of the visions it had given him was of the two of them disappearing for a very long time and everyone thinking they were dead.

Noah had to admit that that scared him a bit. That did _not_ sound fun. He didn’t want to disappear - no one would even notice he was gone!

Okay, maybe one of his friends would, but nobody else would. Obviously his parents didn’t notice, didn’t care that he was gone. They’d have done something about it already if they did.

“You okay, Noah?” Alex asked worriedly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Noah forced himself to smile. “Keep talking, if you want.”

“Well… There’s not much else to say. It’s just that… Sometimes I feel like I’ll never wake up from these nightmares.”

“Funny.” Habit gave a snort. “That’s how my whole life feels as of late.”

Alex and Noah laughed.

After a moment, Habit did too.


	6. Get Out Alive

“Extremely paranoid” was no longer a strong enough term to cover the way that Habit felt almost constantly.

It was kind of sad, really, how on edge he was every waking moment of every day. Everything made him feel jumpy. He was practically scared of his own shadow.

And the worst part was that he couldn’t figure out why. All he could do was absently attribute it to the _thing_ from the woods, the one he’d taken to calling Stick-In-The-Mud. He wasn’t sure why that was the first name he thought of for it - he supposed it was just because a ridiculous name like that made it less scary to him. Less of a threat, he supposed.

But the more he paid attention to his paranoia, the more he saw ol’ Stick-In-The-Mud. He didn’t like it. He didn’t fucking like it at all.

“You’re doing it again.” Noah informed him.

“Doing what again?” Habit paused to scowl at him, mid-step. He realized he was pacing, of course. It was a conscious decision. He had to do _something_ to keep busy. But he knew that Noah wasn’t talking about him pacing.

“Checking out all the windows and picking at your scabs.” Noah frowned at him. “It’s getting annoying.”

“I can’t help it. I’m going stir crazy.” Habit huffed, plopping onto the edge of the motel room’s bed.

Noah had been in New Jersey for a week, now. Habit was starting to mind his presence less and less the longer he spent time with him. He supposed that was kind of how that sort of thing worked. He wasn’t entirely sure, though, because it had been a long time since he’d had to get used to someone.

“We could always go be stir crazy at your house.” Noah suggested. “Take a walk, go to a store…” A brief silence. “Run away back to Florida without telling anyone where we’re going because we don’t want them to get involved with this shit.”

Habit nodded along to the suggestions, hardly paying attention at all. It took an embarrassingly long time for him to catch the last part and fully process it. “Wait, wait, wait. Back up. What was that last part?”

“Run away to Florida without telling anyone where we went?”

“... I thought so. But why would you want me to go with you to Florida?”

“Cuz we’re in this together, now, fuckface. And I’m not gonna leave the only person who understands what I’m going through, on some level, in New Jersey where we can’t fucking help each other.” Noah gave a huff of his own and crossed his arms, pushing himself closer to the headboard of the bed. “Safety in numbers, y’know?”

“So, basically, you want me to go back to Florida with you… Because you don’t want to be alone.”

“Essentially.”

“And what am I gonna tell my family about that?”

“Nothing?” Noah suggested with a shrug. “I’m saying you run away with me. My parents would never know the difference and it’s not like you really want your mom knowing where you are anyway. Evan’s told me you don’t get along well with her.”

“I tried to kill her when I was 12.” Habit said flatly. “But that still leaves my dad, Ev, and Ly to worry about. And all the others, since they’d eventually get worried too.”

“We don’t tell anyone anything.” Noah insisted. “They don’t need to know, because they don’t need to get involved.”

Habit hated knowing that he was right.

But at the same time, it wasn’t so bad knowing that _nobody_ would know where he was if he went along with this. No one but Noah. That would actually be… Pretty nice. And if Noah was right about his parents not noticing, that was even better. He could literally just hang out with one person all the time. Just like… Just like the old times. Just like he used to do with Lyra. The emphasis, of course, being on ‘used to’. He hadn’t had more than four minutes alone with Lyra ever since she and Evan got together.

Going with Noah to Florida was, quite honestly, starting to sound more and more appealing by the minute.

“Alright, say I agree to this.” Habit began to pace again. “How would we be getting back to Florida? There’d be records if we got on a train or a plane.” He saw Noah frown, obviously thinking about it. “God, you didn’t think this through at all, did you?”

“Not really, no.” Noah admitted. “I just thought it up on the fly, honestly.”

Habit rolled his eyes. “We drive, if we can’t use the train or a plane, genius.” His steps sped a bit. “But we’d need gas money for that. And money for hotels or motels unless we wanna sleep in the car.”

“You seem pretty on board with this idea.” Noah pointed out.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just explaining why it’s a bad idea.” Habit stuck his tongue out.

“Sure.” Noah rolled his eyes. “Continue, either way. You’ve got a better idea of how to do this than I do… Which really says a lot about you, if I’m being honest.”

Habit let out a puff of air as he continued to pace. “I’m assuming you don’t have enough money, do you?”

“Probably not, no.” Noah sighed. “I have enough for a few nights in another motel or hotel, maybe a tank of gas.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ve got plenty.” Habit waved a hand, not really caring that that sounded like an agreement to this crazy plan of theirs.

“How do _you_ have ‘plenty’ money? You don’t even have a job!” Noah’s brows furrowed.

“I work odd jobs here and there.” Habit paused, shrugging. “And I sold pot for a while.”

Noah blinked. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. I’m completely serious.” He quirked a brow at him, “You can’t tell me you can’t imagine it. You know you can.”

“... Why’d you stop?”

“Lyra and mom almost found out about it.” He shrugged again. “I couldn’t very well keep selling if two women who would happily ream me for it found out about it. I didn’t have the energy to deal with that.”

“That’s fair.”

A long silence.

“So are we really doing this?” Noah asked softly.

“... We might as well.” Habit sighed. “I can finance the journey - not like I was ever actually gonna be able to get those surgeries anyway.”

“Surgeries?” Noah’s head cocked to the side.

“I was gonna get real fangs. Would have taken two procedures to get the top set and the bottom set. Was gonna be real expensive.”

“Shit, I bet.” Noah straightened his neck out and shook his head. “Sounds painful, though.”

“Dunno, maybe it would have been.” He shrugged yet again. “It’ll take awhile to get all that money made again when I won’t be able to leave the house without the cops grabbing me, so it’s really not likely to happen. Not that it was likely to begin with. I just had a better chance when I wasn’t gonna be on the run.”

“You’ve got a point about that… Sorry, dude.” Another silence. “You don’t have to go, you know.”

“I know, but…” He trailed off. “Listen, you ever repeat what I’m about to say and I’ll fucking gut you, okay?”

“Okay.”

He sighed again. “I’m scared.” He muttered, “I’m scared and I don’t want to be left alone to deal with this thing and possibly pass it on to my stupid family and friends. I don’t want them involved, and keeping me as far away from them as possible is just about the only way I’m gonna manage that.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

They were quiet again, for a while. Neither of them could think of anything to say. There was really nothing that they _could_ say, at this point. Noah had nothing in mind, really, nothing that could bring the mood up, and Habit’s pride prevented everything he could say from bubbling onto his tongue.

Finally, Noah, chewing on his lip, asked, “You wanna play some video games?”

Habit stayed quiet for a second or two before giving a simple, “Yeah,” and grabbing his keys.

Noah gave a smile.

They got halfway to Habit’s house before the purple-eyed boy turned to look at him and gave a genuine smile in return.


	7. Run, Run, Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is the beginning of the reasons this story has a warning for graphic violence. Nothing too incredibly graphic happens _yet_ , but the moment is there nonetheless. And it _will_ be a running theme from now on. You've been warned.  
> 

Three days later, Noah’s pre-booked time at the motel came near an end. He only had that final night left, and then he had to head home. Under any other circumstances, he’d have taken the opportunity to spend the last night in the bed, sleeping the best he could in his current state of mind.

Not that night, though.

He left the hotel room at midnight and made his way towards Habit’s house. They’d already discussed this, so Habit was _supposed_ to be awake and waiting for him. That didn’t mean he actually would be, though, because even if Habit was a man of his word he was also a man who liked to sleep a lot whenever he could. Noah had learned that over the time they’d been spending together. He’d learned about four days into his visit, actually, when Habit quite literally conked out right next to him while they were out at the Usual Spot with the others.

Lyra told him that meant Habit trusted him.

He hadn’t believed her at first. Surely it was just because he didn’t give a shit about him and trusted all the others?

But, no. In the end, Lyra was right. In the end, he found that Habit didn’t mind falling asleep next to him whether they were with everyone else or completely alone. Habit never remarked upon it, though, so he never really thought to bring it up. He didn’t particularly want to embarrass Habit, especially not now that they were going to be living together. _God_ that sounded weird.

Another thing he never thought to bring up was the fact that he was honestly beginning to find Habit to be rather… Attractive. Physically and personality-wise. _Not_ something he’d have imagined himself thinking before he’d arrived in New Jersey, and even now he couldn’t really imagine it. It felt unreal to know that he really, truly thought that Habit’s personality was attractive in any way. Habit was a sassy, moody, confrontational _douchebag_ most of the time - he couldn’t comprehend what about that, exactly, that he found even remotely alluring because those were usually all huge turn-offs for him. He didn’t understand, at all, and he wasn’t going to try to, because if he had to think too hard about it he’d end up needing to talk to someone about it and God knew that he couldn’t mention it to Habit without stroking his already massive ego.

He ducked behind one or two cars on his way to meet that infuriating boy, keeping out of sight of the patrolling cars that were out to grab teens who were out past curfew. Both the legal cars and the considerably less lawful ones.

He had forgotten how far away Habit’s house was from the motel. The walk was tiresome, and even more tedious. Honestly, he was beginning to grow annoyed with the distance by the time that he stepped onto Habit’s block, but was thankful to have finally arrived. He had to duck into the neighbor’s yard to avoid being seen and decided to jump their fence into Habit’s yard for the sake of convenience.

And, of course, for the sake of secrecy.

He would be making his way up to Habit’s room via the vines that clung to the side of the house (which had, of course, been tested for sturdiness prior to them deciding on it), and they would be leaving in much the same way. Habit’s car was parked a block or two away, tonight, Noah couldn’t really remember how far it was. He’d parked there after his parents had gone to bed, so no one knew his car was there.

Again, all for the sake of convenience.

Noah dropped his bags at the side of the house and began the (admittedly rather terrifying) climb up the side of Habit’s house to his window. He peeked in carefully before making any obvious moves, seeing the light on, of course. Habit wasn’t in his room, but his door was wide open and the window seemed to be unlocked.

Noah took a chance and tried to open it, and it slid upwards without so much as catching or creaking.

Maneuvering himself in was difficult, not something he really wanted to ever have to do again, but he managed it without too much fanfare. Sure, he made a couple muffled thumps and had to hold in curses, but still. He’d accomplished what he wanted to do - he’d gotten in and hadn’t attracted a lot of attention.

He glanced around the room, taking note of both of Habit’s cats, Fang and Blade, sleeping in a pet carrier next to the bed.

Oh, yeah. He’d forgotten about that part of the plan - the part where Habit left his cats with Lyra because he knew she wanted them and Evan couldn’t take care of them for him.

He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and the first thing that came to mind for him to do was to dive underneath the bed. Thank _God_ that Habit didn’t have anything under there, and that his frame was set so high off the ground. Otherwise he’d have never cleared it.

He realized, belatedly, that he’d forgotten to close the window.

“Noah? You in here already?” Habit’s voice was soft as the door clicked shut behind him.

Noah breathed a sigh of relief and backed out from under the bed, popping up at the end as if he’d just been kneeling out of view. “Right here. Wasn’t sure if it was you or Ev.” He got the message behind Habit’s lowered voice - someone else was awake. Probably Evan, honestly. And, even if that wasn’t what it meant, there was only one other meaning it could have (unless he looked _way_ too far into it). Needless to say, he had matched Habit’s lowered tone. “Didn’t really want to explain to Evan why I was climbing in through your window at,” A glance at the clock, “One fifteen in the morning.”

Habit gave a laugh in reply, snatching up one of his bags and hefting it over his shoulder. “Yeah, don’t think he’d take any of our excuses for that.”

“He up?”

“Mhm. Watching something, so he shouldn’t hear us as long as we’re quieter than his TV.” Habit was at his side, now, bag over his shoulder. “Scootch.”

Noah obeyed, and the other carelessly dropped his bag out the window and onto the ground twenty or more feet below. At Noah’s vaguely disbelieving look, Habit shrugged.

“Just clothes, dude.”

Oh. That was a relief. If there’d been anything breakable in that, he wasn’t going to replace it, or help Habit replace it. It’d be his own fault if he broke it.

He saw Habit roll his eyes. “How fucking stupid do you think I am, Maxwell? I wouldn’t throw anything important out my window.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.” Noah rolled his eyes right back at him. “How are we getting Fang and Blade out?”

“We’re not. Change in plans - I’m leaving them here with a note to tell someone else to take them to Lyra. I only had them in the carrier so they wouldn’t run out while I had some pretty much mandatory sibling time with Evan or jump out the window when you climbed in. I’ll let them out before we leave.”

“Oh. Yeah, good idea.” Noah nodded. “Where’s the money, by the way?”

“I’ll get it, hold your horses.” Habit grabbed another bag, this one significantly smaller than the other. “Just get this to ground level and I’ll do the rest.”

Noah frowned, taking the bag when Habit offered it to him. “Habit, I don’t know if I can make it down there holding this. What’s in it, anyway?”

“Laptop, phone, chargers, the car keys… And maybe a book? Don’t remember, I just sorta threw the extra shit in there.”

“So… A duffle bag full of clothes, a messenger bag full of miscellaneous _bullshit_ , and whatever you’ve got $15,000 cash sitting in?” Honestly, Noah had been expecting Habit to pack more.

“And the game consoles and all my games.” Habit amended. “But they’re in their own bag, which I’ll be transferring the money into once I grab it. Also, don’t be a pussy, you can make it to ground level with a messenger bag. I believe in you.” It was sarcastic, and he rolled his eyes in typical Habit fashion, but Noah still felt the emotional reaction of having gotten a _real_ vote of confidence from someone.

“Do you really want to chance me dropping your laptop?” He challenged, anyway.

“Not really, but I also don’t want to have to make more than one trip. Just try to drop it on the bag of clothes, if at all possible.”

Noah sighed and shouldered the bag. “I guess I’ll wait down there?”

Habit hesitated. “Don’t go down yet.” He said, somewhat reluctantly and almost… Almost desperately?

No, Habit wouldn’t be desperate to have him around. If anything it would be entirely the opposite, which was… well it was weird.

“Alright.” Noah agreed easily, regardless of his thoughts. If he didn’t have to chance climbing down yet, why would he?

That’s what he told himself his reasoning was, at least. He really just didn’t want to be alone just yet. And he’d really rather not be alone in Habit’s back yard, specifically. Who knew what kind of underhanded shit Habit could pull on him if left alone? And who knew if that thing was just waiting in the wings to snag him while Habit wasn’t looking.

Sure, it had never touched him yet, and he’d been seeing it for a long time, but you never knew. Sometimes things like that were just waiting for an opportunity. It hadn’t had many when he was staying in his house all the time, and it didn’t seem interested in chasing him when Habit was around. It was kind of nice. And it was all the more reason to stay inside with this psycho rather than chance climbing down and running face-first into “Stick-in-the-Mud”.

Habit ducked into his closet.

Noah heard soft beeping noises from within. Leaning around the door showed Habit kneeling on the floor with something in front of him. Some kind of box, it looked like. Was that where he was keeping all his money?

Habit murmured to himself as he removed everything from the box. Not _just_ his money, Noah noted - there were a few other things being removed and deposited into a bag next to him. The last thing he grabbed from it seemed to be a rolled up t-shirt. He didn’t put that in the bag, he just held onto it for a long moment before he stood and shouldered the bag. He tossed the fabric onto the top of the pet carrier and scrawled a quick note in a notebook, leaving it next to the fabric.

Noah glanced at it as he turned back toward the window. All he caught was Lyra’s name and the words, “If I’m not back before”.

An elaborate lie, probably. Noah certainly wouldn’t put it past the fanged boy to have come up with something that would cover their tracks fairly well. Probably set everyone off on a wild goose chase.

Only one way to find out.

“So, Habit,” Noah asked while he was beginning to climb down the vines, “What’s the note say?”

“I’ll tell ya when we get to the car.” Habit grunted in reply.

He sounded winded, which Noah understood completely. The rest of the trip down was silent save for a couple close calls that made him yelp softly. Those got soft, weak chuckles from Habit, which made Noah’s face light up. He didn’t want to think about what that entailed, because he already knew exactly what it was.

And he didn’t like it.

To save Habit the trouble, he grabbed both his own bag and the admittedly rather heavy bag of clothes Habit had thrown down. He didn’t comment on the obvious amount of clothes he’d packed. After all, Habit might not ever be coming back to this house, this town, this _life_. He couldn’t blame him for packing as many outfits as he could. His clothes and the other things he’d packed to bring along would be the only links he still had to his old life.

And his phone, of course, but unless it was to talk to Lyra he rarely used it.

They shoved their bags (a grand total of three… that was kind of wimpy, really) into the backseat of the Thunderbird and then folded themselves into the front seats. They were driving by the time Habit said, “It basically just says that if I’m not back by noon they should take the cats to Lyra and that I might have done something stupid if I’m not back by then.”

It took Noah a moment to understand the context. It had been a long walk from the house to the car. Not as long as the walk from the hotel to the house, of course, but _still_. “Oh. Yeah, that works.”

“Left plenty of hints to show I was suicidal.” Habit said it quietly. “Some bandages in the trash can, bloody towels and sheets in my closet, my knife on the bedside table with some… Well…” He seemed ashamed. “Some _fresher_ blood on it.” He cleared his throat. “Y’know, just to throw ‘em off. It’s not subtle, and it’s probably a terrible idea, but it’ll probably work.”

“Hab…” Noah didn’t care about _how_ he was throwing them off. It was a great idea, anyway. But if the blood was fresher… He’d cut again recently. He gave Habit a once over in the dim light of the car and couldn’t see anything to prove he’d done it today, but it would be hard to tell in this light, wouldn’t it?

“What?” His voice was strained, hands gripping the wheel so tightly that, even with the bad lighting, Noah could see his knuckles turning white.

“You don’t need to do that to yourself. Why don’t you take it out on somebody else for a change? Although maybe that’s bad advice to give you.” The last part was only half-joking.

Habit’s responding laugh lightened the mood immensely. It didn’t sound strained; it was completely natural. The first natural laugh Noah had heard out of him at least in the past couple of days. Maybe even since he’d gotten here. He couldn’t really remember…

His memory was shit to begin with, and this whole ordeal really wasn’t helping with it.

Eh, he’d survive.

“That’s _terrible_ advice to give me. And who would I take it out on, anyway? _You_? You’d cry.”

“I would not.” Noah rolled his eyes before blanching. No doubt Habit would interpret that as some kind of challenge.

“You would.” Habit’s tone was no longer joking. “Believe me, you would. If I even took out half of this shit on you you’d cry. You wouldn’t be able to handle my venting for very long unless you have no nerve endings.”

“I could try.” Noah shrugged. “Besides, it’d help us both, I think.”

Habit hummed.

The conversation dropped off for a good hour or two after that. Once or twice, one of them opened their mouth as if to say something, only to close it again. They encountered few cars, but each one had Habit clenching his hands on the steering wheel nervously. Noah could relate to his obvious feeling of paranoia. Every car they passed could be a police officer, someone they knew, someone with bad intentions. Any cop could pull them over for something simple and realize they were underaged and, by now, quite a ways away from both their homes.

Noah could only think to thank God that he’d already said his goodbyes yesterday, and that as far as anyone who mattered knew he’d already hopped on the train and the plane back to Florida. It would make things less difficult, in the long run, because if all his friends thought he’d gone home before Habit disappeared, there wouldn’t be much chance of them asking if he knew where he was. No one would really think Habit had gone with him, not considering, as far as his family knew, he’d been at home until about one in the morning and the last train left at nine.

Noah’s eyelids were growing heavy when Habit finally spoke again.

“Were you serious?” He asked.

“Mmbout what?” Noah sluggishly turned his head to look at him.

“Letting me take it out on you. About it possibly helping us both.” Habit seemed more tense than he’d been beforehand, if that was even remotely possible.

Noah had to think about it. Had he been serious? Had he really intended to let Habit, who he knew to be a very violent, very easily vexed individual, take out his anger on him? Had he _actually_ considered the thought that it might help them both? How in the _world_ could that benefit him?

_Distractions_. His brain supplied. _It would benefit me through distractions. If I’m in pain, I won’t think about much except for the pain._

Yes, he finally decided, those thoughts spurring him on, he _had_ meant it.

He told Habit as much, but kept his reasoning out of it.

Habit nodded stiffly. “Alright. You let me know if you change your mind, yeah? Cuz if you don’t… When we stop you’ve got it coming to you.”

“All the more reason for me to sleep while I can.” Noah snorted. He was more awake, now, but he was still tired. “Not that I imagine I’ll get much.”

Habit hummed, and Noah could see his lips quirking up slightly. “We should probably both get some rest, first, honestly. And Florida’s still a long ways away, so I might have to dirty a hotel room with your blood.”

Noah couldn’t tell if he was joking. He didn’t really care - he never thought he’d say it but he was anxiously awaiting the pain. In a _good_ way. He _wanted_ it.

He tried not to look too far into what that said about his mental state.

Despite his prediction he wouldn’t get much sleep, he managed to doze off about half an hour later, and only opened his eyes to the pink glow of the sun rising over the horizon. Habit wasn’t paying much attention to him, eyes glued to the road and mind obviously elsewhere. The radio was playing softly; some song Noah didn’t know, but Habit seemed to. His fingers tapped out the beat on the steering wheel, lips forming the lyrics but the words never actually leaving his mouth.

Noah watched in silence for quite some time before Habit even noticed that he was staring. But even then, Habit didn’t pay him very much attention. He spared him a glance, and then his eyes and mind were back where they’d been.

Noah didn’t really mind. The less Habit actually acknowledged him, the better. If Habit only talked to him when he had to, Noah knew (or rather he _hoped_ ) that he could avoid this very minor crush he’d developed from becoming anything worse. He didn’t want, under any circumstances, to fall in love with Habit. This particular circumstance wasn’t exactly the worst-case scenario, but it was definitely one of the ones he _especially_ didn’t want to add anymore romantic frustration to, even if it was his own and likely wouldn’t affect Habit in any conceivable way unless he was an idiot and admitted his feelings.

He’d rather not think about that scenario, really, because he didn’t like the ways it could end.

Habit pulled them into the parking lot of a rather shady motel at 6:29 in the morning, and ten minutes later they had a room. They hauled their stuff in for the sake of convenience, since Habit didn’t really want to head any further for a couple of days since he’d been up so long and knew he’d need the rest. Noah offered to drive to get them on the road faster, but Habit wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea, so he let it drop.

Habit spared him another glance as they examined the room. They’d only gotten one bed because they’d proven themselves capable of sharing one without issues, and because it was a _lot_ cheaper.

“You want some more rest before I fuck you up for a while?” Habit asked, finally, after Noah’d taken a seat on the edge of the bed.

“I think I could handle it right now, if you could dish it out.”

Habit nodded slowly. “So that’s… That was explicit consent.” He said it rather forcefully. “You’re giving me permission to hurt you.”

“Yep. So get on with it, okay?” Noah felt terrified, regardless. What would Habit do? How much would it hurt?

“Right. Okay.” Habit took a deep breath. “Get up.”

Noah obeyed before he could argue with himself about it. And the next thing he knew he was on the ground with the back of his head and his left cheek throbbing in time. Then, Habit was over him.

“You good?”

He blinked at him. Then found his voice and said, “Yeah. That all you got?”

“Not even close.” Habit offered him a hand, and with a little effort from both Noah got back on his feet.

Habit grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and his fist connected with Noah’s left cheek again. This time, Noah was expecting it and managed to stay on his feet without much help from Habit’s hand tangled in his collar. The next impact was from Habit’s knee, planted firmly in his stomach even as Habit yanked him forward and released his collar.

Noah made a rather embarrassing noise and stumbled backwards. Habit snagged him by the shirt again and flung him onto the bed. The breath whooshed out of Noah’s lungs, more from shock and fear than from the actual impact. _God_ , Habit was gonna end up fucking _killing_ him, wasn’t he?! He was going to die in a dingy motel room with a psycho.

Habit was over him in a moment. “We need to establish some ground rules. Knives okay?”

“For now I’d say anything goes as long as you don’t kill me.” Noah swallowed hard at the glint in Habit’s eyes. “We’ll figure out what I’m okay with once I’ve experienced it all.”

“Fair enough.”

Habit leaned over the edge of the bed, digging around in the bag he’d claimed was “just clothing” and removed a pocket knife. When he opened it, Noah couldn’t help swallowing again. It was long, serrated, and did _not_ look like it was going to be fun to be on the receiving end of. Still, he’d said it was alright, and he wasn’t going to back down yet. If it was as bad as he was expecting, he could just tell Habit not to use it next time.

That was vaguely reassuring.

Habit sat up and scooted down onto Noah’s legs, telling him to sit up as well. Noah hesitantly obeyed, and did so once again when ordered to take off his shirt. Habit shoved him back down onto the bed and placed a hand in the center of his abdomen to keep him still. Noah thought it best to go ahead and stay still, even without Habit’s hand holding him down.

The knife bit into his stomach, wrenching a gasp out of him as his fingers tangled in the sheets. He hissed as it cut a line into his skin, and the muscles beneath it, feeling tears filling his eyes. The flesh split open easily, even though it hurt, and all Noah saw when he managed to look at Habit was a look of morbid wonder on his face.

The knife was set aside on the bedside table. Habit wasn’t really interested in it anymore, Noah could tell. So he just laid nice and still and let Habit do what he was going to do.

Habit’s hands were shaking as his fingers traced over the wound, smearing blood around. A dazed smile took up residence on his face, and coupled with the morbid interest and wonderment in his eyes Noah thought it fair to say he looked unhinged. He tried not to let that scare him - Habit wouldn’t hurt him _too_ badly.

Funny. Just a couple minutes ago he’d been worried Habit was going to kill him, and that was just when Habit was beating the shit out of him.

Of course, despite knowing the pain probably wasn’t over with, Noah was still surprised and almost disgusted when Habit’s next move was to dip his fingers into the wound and rip it open further. He muffled a scream - because _fuck_ that hurt, that hurt so _fucking_ bad, holy _shit_ \- and twitched under him. It took so much effort not to scream, cry, squirm and kick and fight back.

Habit shushed him, and it was such a soft and reassuring sound that Noah almost cried anyway.

“Sshhh, it’ll be over soon. Don’t you worry. Just gotta have my fun.”

He felt Habit’s fingers dip back into the wound. And then he felt his fingers tracing over his intestines. He trembled, because it felt weird, because it was a horrifying situation that he’d willingly put himself into, because he had no way to get out of it now. Habit made an interested sound and continued to trace over the organ with the tips of his fingers.

“Small intestine.” He concluded after a bit, pushing his fingers further under the skin to trace upwards. “There’s the eleventh and twelfth ribs…” Further, causing Noah’s muscles to spasm, arching his back up and tangling his fingers in the sheets. And Habit laughed, managing to worm his finger in between two pieces of his small intestine. “Gotcha all twitchy.” He snickered.

“Fuck you.” Noah said through gritted teeth. “It feels weird.”

“Doesn’t hurt?”

“You touching my organs? No. You having to shove your fingers through a cut in my stomach to get to them? Absolutely. Holy _fuck_ does that part hurt. But the organs and shit is just… Weird. Tingly.” He squirmed a bit. “Are you done yet?”

“Just about. Something about this is oddly calming - I didn’t actually think I’d cut deep enough to touch your organs.” Even as he spoke his fingertips traced over them, pressing slightly here and there as if trying to garner a reaction. He got a twitch or two each time. “It’ll need stitches.”

“Well I’m fucked, cuz I’m not going to a-” He was cut off by Habit scraping his nail over the organ. It didn’t _hurt_ , per se, it was just really, _really_ weird. It made his whole body spasm slightly. His mind picked up the slack and tried to find what he’d been talking about. Oh, yeah. “H-hospital.” He stammered, as if he hadn’t had to search for the word.

Habit laughed. “That was an odd reaction. What happened, there?”

“I lost my train of thought for a second.” Noah tried to shrug, but the movement was somewhat jerky since he didn’t really want to chance flexing his stomach muscles and hurting himself further. “That felt… Really weird.”

Another laugh. “I’d apologize, but I’m not going to lie to you.”

“That’s reassuring.” Noah rolled his eyes, stomach spasming against his will when Habit removed his fingers from the wound. “ _Fuck_.”

“Whoops.” Habit didn’t sound too upset about it. “Oh, and about the stitches? We don’t need a hospital. I was smart enough to bring a fully stocked First Aid kit - which I stole from the Vet Tech class - that has some needles in it.”

“I’d usually say something like, ‘You think I’m gonna trust you with a needle?’, but considering that I just trusted you with something worse and didn’t die...”

Habit just cackled as he maneuvered himself off Noah’s legs and swung his own off the bed. Noah tried not to stare, but still got an eyeful of something he’d kind of hoped he’d been imagining.

“Listen, I know this is probably a bad question to ask, but… Are you fucking serious, Habit?”

“Hm?” Habit’s eyebrows went up.

“Are you _seriously_ hard right now?”

Habit’s face tinged somewhat red and he laughed again. “I guess I am, yeah. Didn’t know that was gonna happen, to be honest. Probably wouldn’t have done any of that if I did.”

“You know what? I’m vaguely disgusted, but for some reason in no way deterred from letting you do that again sometime.”

“You'd let me cut you open again?”

“... Yeah.”

There was a silence filled only by Habit rifling through his bag. He seemed to be thinking as he did so. “You’re an odd fish, Noah. But I intend to take you up on that.” He said, finally, pulling out the first aid kit.

Noah did his best to relax and hold still while Habit patched him up. Everything sort of went blurry for him after awhile, the pain of the stitching making his brain move slower than usual. Habit was talking, while he stitched. Noah could hear him, but he couldn’t process what he was saying, no matter how much he wished he could. He wanted reassurance. He wanted distraction.

It was only once Habit was taping some gauze over the top of it that he realized he’d been right. The pain, the situation itself, had distracted him from his real issue entirely. He felt… Disconnected from it. He knew the feeling wouldn’t last, but it was nice. He’d never really considered pain _actually_ helping. He knew other people said it did, and he knew that pinching himself _really_ hard when he was upset always made the tears stop and gave him some solace, but this was different. He didn’t really, _actually_ , think that letting Habit cut him open would help.

Habit, for his part, was moving more fluidly now. He was relaxed, more at ease than Noah had seen him in a long time. It was nice knowing that it was technically because of him that Habit was so relaxed.

It felt good to have helped.

Habit turned the light off and fell into the bed with him, and the last thing he managed to get out of his mouth before he drifted off was, “Thank you.”

The last thing he saw before his eyes closed was Habit blinking owlishly at him, clearly shocked by his words.

He was already almost completely asleep when he felt Habit wrap an arm around him and pull him closer. That was nice.


	8. Back Home, Part One

Lyra worriedly smoothed down Blade’s soft fur.

It had been almost a week, now, since Habit had vanished in the middle of the night and she’d gotten his cats. They’d been one of her only comforts besides Evan.

And it sucked that she couldn’t have both at once without issues. That’d be the most comforting thing she could imagine - being able to curl up with Evan _and_ Fang and Blade. But, no. She had to settle for one or the other.

Right now, she’d chosen the cats, but here in a few minutes she’d be with Evan instead. He just had to show up… Which reminded her that she was going to have to get rid of as much cat hair from her clothes as she could before he arrived. It wouldn’t do to have him sneezing and watery eyed from his allergies when he was already going to be watery eyed from worry.

She carefully moved Blade off her lap, watching as he blinked lazily up at her. She scratched behind his ear, listening to his purr for a moment. Then she stood and grabbed her lint roller, rolling off as much of his fur as she could. She headed for her door and slid out, heading downstairs.

Almost on cue, a knock came to the front door.

The moment she’d opened it, she threw her arms around Evan and squeezed. He squeezed right back and rubbed her shoulders and center of her back.

“Hey baby.”

“Hey, Evvy.”

“Any news? Calls?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. He hasn’t even been active on Facebook since the night he disappeared.”

Evan sighed. “Let’s get going. Maybe he’s just… I dunno. In a hotel or something.”

“Ev, the police would have found him already if he was in a hotel. That’s the first place we all checked, remember?”

“Yeah, but Habit’s smart. He’d know we’d go for a hotel or motel to look for him. He might not even be in town anymore, Ly. He could have gone like three towns over and gotten a room. He’s probably sitting on some questionably clean sheets laughing at our pain.” He was rambling, even as they began to walk away. “That’s just the kind of person he is, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know that.” She squeezed his hand. “We’ll see. I’m sure he’ll come back soon. He’d never want us to worry too long.”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Silence.

“Do you think he’s dead, Ly?”

“I don’t know what to think, Evvy.” She admitted. “I’m _hoping_ he’s not dead. I’m practically praying he’s not. But I don’t know if I believe he’s alive, or if I believe he’s dead. It’s hard to tell.”

Evan nodded.

Another silence, this one longer. All Evan could think, the whole time, was that he should never have let the conversation about Habit hurting himself drop. And, even if he had, he should have brought it back up while Habit was actually around. He could have brought it up on the night Habit disappeared, and then maybe they’d have been able to talk it out, and maybe Habit would still be around.

He knew there was no use in “maybes” and “what ifs”, but he couldn’t help thinking about it anyway. And there were so many possibilities for his mind to explore - “what if” he’d been a little quicker figuring out what was wrong; “what if” he’d actually figured it out in full, instead of assuming for the most part; “what if” he could go back and change whatever it was? “Maybe” if he’d known, he could have helped; “maybe” he could have done something if Habit would have just talked to him.

“Maybe” he should just fucking stop before he made himself upset.

Still, that brought his mind to the subject of Noah. He’d disappeared the same night Habit had, but the likelihood of them being together was pretty low unless Noah’d taken the train south and then waited for Habit somewhere.

Not likely, seeing as they were both pretty impatient people. Evan didn’t think they were capable of waiting that long just to fuck with everybody and disappear for a while.

Regardless, nobody had heard from Noah since that night, either. It was suspicious, it was scary, and if Noah were known to be active on Facebook more often it’d only be worse. Fortunately, he wasn’t much of a Facebook person, so his having been inactive for a while wasn’t too worrying. Or, it wouldn’t have been, if Evan wasn’t getting paranoid.

“Do you think Noah’s okay?” He blurted.

Lyra jumped slightly. “Well-” She had to gather her thoughts, but once she had she nodded rather fiercely. “Yes. Yes, I think Noah’s fine. I’m sure he’s just settling back in at home. Maybe getting yelled at for not telling his parents he was leaving.”

Evan nearly choked on air. “Wait, he didn’t tell them he was coming up here?”

“Nope. He told me he just kind of… Left. And they never called or anything.”

“Well, if they never called they don’t have much right to be mad. They should at least check to see where he is, or they’re just being irresponsible and rude.” Evan snorted. “I mean, usually first step when you don’t know where your kid is is to wait for them to come home, then call them, right?”

“Have your parents called Habit?”

“Well, no. But that’s because he doesn’t pick up the phone for them unless they text him first to tell him it’s an emergency.” Evan sighed. “But we’ve called him. We’ve all called him. And he hasn’t picked up once.”

Lyra frowned. “You’ve got a point there. Has your dad texted him?”

“Twenty-nine times.” Evan sighed again, because there wasn’t much else he could do. “He hasn’t answered a single one.”

Lyra’s frown only deepened. “I really hope he’s okay.” She swallowed and sniffed, blinking rapidly to avoid her eyes filling with tears. Lord knew she didn’t need that. Not right now - they were in public. “I don’t know what I’d do if I found out anything bad happened to him.”

“Probably cry. Be sad for a while.” Evan attempted a crude joke, like Habit would have made, but it fell flat for both of them.

It was true, after all. It hit way too close to home. That just made it painful and somewhat insensitive. Not that they really minded the last bit. Being insensitive was something both of them were good at, and they couldn’t really get mad at each other for it since they already knew. Still, it didn’t feel like a good joke to be making at the moment.

Evan sighed, again, and they continued on in silence.

He hoped they’d find Habit soon. Dead or alive, they both needed closure of some kind. They needed to know what happened to him. He only wished that Habit would just pick up the fucking phone already if he was alive.

* * *

The room around him was full of shadows, which was in no way unusual. It was the middle of the night, after all. Or… Or was it? He wasn’t sure. He thought it was daytime - noonish. But it was so dark. It had to be the middle of the night, right? Ten or eleven at night. Surely. There was no way it could be noon if it was this dark. Not unless there was a full eclipse happening, but… No, he’d remember something like that. Jeff would have told him. Jeff liked astrological shit like that.

Or, well, _Jessa_ liked shit like that, and she’d pushed the interest onto Jeff, who happily picked it up because, as it turned out, stars and planets were neat. Alex couldn’t blame him, but he really didn’t have a head for all those facts. Not lately, at least. Not since… No, he didn’t want to think about that.

The shadows wafted off the objects around him; his bedposts, his lamp, his blinds and curtains; even the floor and surface of his bed exuded them.

As his mind finally caught up with him, he remembered why this was happening.  He remembered why his room looked like this, why it looked like it was the middle of the night when he knew it was the middle of the afternoon.

He remembered, and he wished he hadn’t, because while it had been weird and confusing before, it was _terrifying_ now.

He had to wake up.

He _had_ to wake up. He couldn’t handle another dream like this. It’d kill him. It would _kill_ him. He didn’t want to die. He just wanted to go back to the way things were before these stupid nightmares started. He wanted to be able to sleep through the night, take a nap, without this shit happening to him. He didn’t want to see that _thing_ again.

He sat up, slowly, looking around. It wasn’t here, yet, so maybe this was just a nightmare that was influenced by the other ones. He turned on the bed and pulled his knees up to his chest. Maybe, just maybe, he could get through this one without _it_ showing up.

He knew as soon as he thought it that he wouldn’t.

And that knowledge was only cemented when the whispering came from the end of the bed. The whispering was followed by a distinct dipping, a weight at the foot, and Alex began to shake.

He didn’t want this. He wanted to wake up. He wanted to wake up right now and forget all about this. He wanted his life back. He just wanted his life back. He didn’t want to be scared all the time, terrified of falling asleep and exhausting himself trying not to.

The whispering grew louder. Right in Alex’s ear.

The clawed fingers braced against his chest and slammed him onto the bed on his back. He was glad his head landed on the pillow, and he was pretty sure it was intentional. The whispering was still coming, and he felt pressure in his head and liquid in his nostrils.

He wanted to ground himself, look into this beast’s eyes.

But there were no eyes. There were only empty sockets staring down at him while its mouth moved and the pressure in his head grew. It lifted its hand, long, clawed fingers curling in preparation to strike. It was pinning him with its legs, but his arms were free. He threw them up to protect his face and neck. The claws cut into his sleeves, cut into old wounds. The whispering cut off and the thing _screeched_. It was enraged, he knew. This always happened when he protected himself.

He almost wished he actually listened to its whisperings, because then he might know why it was doing this. Over and over, doing this. “Waking him” in the middle of the night with his room shadowy and unreal looking, appearing at the foot of the bed and whispering. Whispering. And then pinning him down and trying to rip his throat out with its huge, sharp claws.

It swung at him again.

He felt the flesh of his arms tear open again. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt it hurt it hurt-

He screamed out loud, a sob tearing its way out of his throat right after it. There was an obvious shift in the atmosphere almost immediately. The weight lifted from his legs, the _thing_ ’s ragged breathing cutting off suddenly, and the air felt thinner. In a good way, though. It was always unbearably thick while the _thing_ was there. It was nice to be able to pull in a full breath.

Still, the only thing it ended up being good for was fueling another sob as he sat up. He knew, before he looked at his arms, that the wounds had carried over to his real life. It didn’t stop him from sobbing louder at the sight of the ripped sleeves and skin. One of his veins had obviously been cut pretty badly by the claws, and there was so much blood already. He felt so woozy - he needed to stop the bleeding.

With trembling, jerky motions, he lifted the heavily bleeding arm and turned the cut toward his face. Yeah. Definitely a sliced vein - not an artery, though. That was good. He’d be screwed if it was an artery. He lifted his other hand and wrapped it around his arm just below the cut, squeezing hard until the blood flow stopped. It took time, and he felt faint by the time it stopped.

So much blood.

His blanket was stained now - but that was nothing new. He was glad Jeff never came in here. Glad his parents never came in here. If they saw these bloodstains, if they saw him with his arms split open and pouring blood onto his bed, they’d have him committed. They’d think he’d done it to himself. They wouldn’t understand. He didn’t want to be committed. He didn’t want people to think he was suicidal. Steph had told him horror stories about mental hospitals. She’d told him about the poor people on suicide watch. He didn’t want any of it, but he especially didn’t want eyes on him 24/7 when he knew he wasn’t actually suicidal. When he knew that he didn’t want to die - that he wanted to live, and with a fierce passion, at that.

He knew, though, that after he cleaned up his arms, got them bandaged and left the room, he’d return to his blanket and sheets spotless. He’d return to no evidence of the encounter except his bandaged arms.

Not exactly the kind of thing that could convince someone he hadn’t done it on his own.

He swung himself out of bed and stumbled unsteadily to his dresser, where he now kept first aid supplies at all times. Bandages, painkillers, alcohol wipes, a bottle of water and a rag.

By the time he finished bandaging both arms, he was ready to drop. He was ready to fall right back to sleep, and maybe this time it would be forever. But he couldn’t do that. Or, well, didn’t _want_ to do that.

He used that phrase a lot, he noticed. He said he didn’t want a lot of things.

He stumbled to his closet next, pulling the doors open and yanking out a long sleeved shirt. He tossed the blood stained, ripped one into the hamper, already knowing it would be repaired when he returned. His strength was returning, somewhat, so he headed to the door and fumbled with the knob for a moment. When he finally managed to turn it, he took a deep breath.

No going back.

He opened it, and he was only downstairs long enough to grab a packet of Pop-Tarts. But when he returned, his bed and the shirt he’d discarded were already fixed. That was nice, at least, because Jeff would notice if all his shirts ended up shredded in the trash.

He took a seat on his bed, feeling rather numb, but that feeling only lasted a moment. He was hit, quite suddenly, with a wave of utter _despair_. He pulled his knees to his chest again, crossing his arms over them. His vision went blurry from tears. He sobbed.

And he didn’t try to stop himself when he dropped his face into his arms. He just let it happen and continued to sob until he could no longer form tears, at least for the time being.

He was _so_ tired. But he couldn’t go back to sleep.

He just… Couldn’t. He could only go through that so many times a day. One time, specifically. That was it. He couldn’t handle it twice in under 24 hours. He might _literally_ die. And that wouldn’t be good.

He sighed and leaned back against his headboard.

It was gonna be a _long_ night tonight.


	9. Motel

If Habit had been stir crazy before, he was absolutely insane with restlessness by now.

They’d been in their motel room for a week. They’d left long enough to grab some food and drink for their trip around nightfall on the day they’d arrived, and that was it. They hadn’t so much as stepped outside since. It really wasn’t worth it, since Noah was sure the cops were already on their tails by noon that first day.

Sure, they were a few hours away from New Jersey, but he still worried. It was better to be worried than to completely blow off the risks. Even if they _were_ in Stony Creek, Viriginia, five hours and eleven minutes away from the life Habit had left behind, and twelve hours and twenty-five minutes from the one they were running to.

Habit’s phone went off periodically, pinging from Facebook alerts from Jeff and Evan (he only knew this because those were the names provided when asked who was messaging him) and playing Lyra and Vinny’s ringtones at least three times a day. Each. Shockingly, Vinny’s played much more often as the days went on while Lyra’s played less.

By now, Vinny called at least four or five times on his own, and Lyra had called maybe once today. He couldn’t remember. But Vinny just kept calling. He was sure that, if this cycle kept going, it would evolve from Vinny calling a few times at random into him calling every hour or so. Somewhat annoying, but also kind of sweet when he thought about it. Vinny was worried enough that he was calling, and calling, and calling. Noah was tempted to believe that Lyra had started to give up hope, if her dwindling calls were anything at all to go by.

But Vinny hadn’t.

Touching, really.

He and Habit sat in relative quiet between his phone going off. Another hour of that and he put his phone on silent, too, and there wasn’t a whole lot of sound at all after that. Habit couldn’t be bothered to try and strike up a conversation right now, and Noah couldn’t blame him. He’d do it himself, but he couldn’t really be bothered, either.

On the bright side, their little misadventure upon their arrival here seemed to have steadied Habit a bit, so at least the ache in Noah’s gut and the uncomfortable pull of the none-too-masterful stitches were actually worth it. In spite of that, though, it looked as if Habit was starting to get a little stabby again, for want of a better word. Noah would just have to hope he’d get as much warning as he did last time, if Habit didn’t find a better (safer) outlet for his frustrations.

Finally, the silence was too much for him - Noah turned on the TV. They quietly watched Law and Order reruns for the next hour and a half. Habit changed the channel when the show went off, but couldn’t find anything good to pay attention to.

So they just left it on for noise.

Habit shoved him down onto the bed at 8:30 that night. Noah wasn’t sure what to expect, but wasn’t really surprised when his shirt was shoved upwards and fingers shakily traced over his stitches. His stomach muscles twitched. It hurt, he didn’t like it, but he knew he’d feel better once Habit was done, if this was anything like last time.

“They’re driving me crazy.” Habit muttered as he traced his fingers over the stitches over and over and over. He seemed to be trying to calm down without purposely hurting himself or Noah. Or maybe he was waiting for permission.

“You’re already crazy.” Noah grunted, shifting beneath him. “Go ahead,” He decided to say, “It’s fine. Fuck me up.”

He didn’t know where Habit pulled the knife from this time, but he didn’t really get a lot of time to think about it. It plunged into his abdomen in a new spot, just deep enough to break through the skin and muscle, because Habit didn’t want to sever an organ. He knew what he was doing.

Which was, admittedly, kind of scary.

He didn’t rip the wound open this time. He cut it with the knife and watched Noah struggle to stay still beneath him. Noah knew what it was doing for him, but that didn’t stop him. It _hurt_ dammit. He knew it would only be worse if he squirmed and lashed out like his body was screaming for him to. He was sure Habit wanted him to do that, though, because that was probably his kink.

He grunted when Habit finally pulled the blade from his skin. He could feel the guy’s growing erection twitching against his thigh. It was _sick_. Habit was just so… In his head, he made a noise that was best described as the vocal equivalent of a shudder.

“You’re fucked up.” He informed him.

Habit laughed. “You’re the one letting me do this, _knowing_ what it does to me.”

He couldn’t argue that. But he also couldn’t help being a little shit about it. “You’re not gonna, like, jack off into the wound or anything, right?” He quirked an unimpressed brow. “Cuz I think I have to draw the line at that.”

Habit began to laugh harder. “Holy shit, Noah. Why would I…? Nah, if I need to do that shit I’ll go to the bathroom.”

He snorted. “Okay, sure.”

“What about you?” Habit teased. “You gonna pop a boner over this?”

“I might be fucked up, Habit, but I am _nowhere_ near being on your level of that shit. No way in any culture’s Hell I’m getting hard over you cuttin’ me open and playing with my guts.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna have to work a lot harder if you want me to enjoy this anywhere near as much as you do.”

“So you enjoy it?” An honest question.

“In a roundabout way, I guess.” A half-hearted, one-shouldered shrug, “I enjoy the detachment from my emotions afterwards.”

Habit hummed, and his fingers found the new wound and wormed their way into it. Noah had almost forgotten it was there, truth be told, since the sharp pain had quickly faded to a dull ache that was pretty easy to ignore seeing as he’d already taken pain medication for the other one. Habit prodding around, seeing how far he could move his fingers before it pulled at the edges of the wound, made tears form in Noah’s eyes. A sob was building in his throat.

He didn’t let it out.

He took the punishment quietly, letting Habit’s fingers poke and prod at his organs and press upwards toward his ribcage. His vision was blurred and going a little foggy from the pain. Somewhere, deep down… He realized it felt _good_. And that bothered him, so he shoved that part of him away and tried to concentrate on the fact that it _hurt_ , and when this was over he wouldn’t be as much of a mess anymore.

The part of him that was enjoying it didn’t go away, though. He couldn’t get rid of it.

All he could do was ignore it.

Habit’s finger hooked around a section of his small intestine, making his body tense and quiver. That was still such a weird feeling. Habit didn’t seem to be paying attention to his reactions anymore, though. He was fixated on the small section of organ tugging it away from the larger mass and partway through the wound. Noah’s heart raced - he was seconds away from being disemboweled, and the only thing that was keeping him alive in this situation was probably the fact that Habit was, seemingly, getting to be quite fond of him.

The tears spilled over, and he whimpered more out of fear than pain. He was starting to get numb to the pain. He didn’t know why he was still paying so much attention; it would be so much easier for him to try and ignore what was happening.

“Shit, dude, you good?” Habit’s voice found him even as he stared down at the boy’s fingers in his guts.

He forced himself to meet Habit’s eyes. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded and, moving slowly, reached up to scrub his face with his arm.

“You sure?”

He gave a hum of agreement.

“Alright. I told you you’d cry, though.” Habit teased gently. He was so calm now it was almost funny to Noah, on some level.

Noah rolled his eyes and scrubbed at his face again. Habit laughed and returned to what he’d been doing. He examined the section of intestine for a long moment, tracing over it, squeezing it slightly, before he gently pushed it back into place.

“I think I’ve tormented you enough for the day. At least like this.” He grabbed for the first aid kit.

Noah hummed.

He sewed him up again, humming a song as he did so. Noah was pretty sure it was _something_ by Frank Sinatra. Probably “The Best Is Yet To Come”. That seemed to be his favorite - not that he paid attention, of course. He tried to focus in on the TV in the background, but his mind kept going back to Habit and his humming.

If this was what it felt like to have a crush on someone, he kind of hoped he got over this shit within the next week or so, before it could warp his mind into _actually_ enjoying being cut open. Because enjoying being cut open was in no way productive, and it wasn’t going to help him cope in the long run. Or was it? Maybe if he started liking it, Habit would do it more, and even if they didn’t get together because of that they might…

He probably shouldn’t think about that while Habit was sitting on his legs and repeatedly plunging a needle into his stomach. Habit might take it the wrong way.

“You good?” Habit’s voice broke through the fog in his brain, even if it did sound somewhat far away.

“I think I’m about to pass out.” Noah replied honestly, and the way his voice slurred didn’t do much to prove him wrong.

“Try not to die on me, okay?”

The concern in Habit’s voice wasn’t lost on him, even if his eyes were already closed, but he took it as a joke. He laughed, and then everything seemed to fade away from him.

* * *

When he came to, Habit wasn’t with him. He still felt woozy, but he managed to shakily scoot himself up the bed until he was leaning against the headboard. He listened closely - Habit had to be nearby. And, sure enough, after a moment he heard a muffled grunt from the bathroom. No real question as to what was going on in there - Habit was a teenager, and when Noah had passed out he’d been hard as a rock against his thigh. Pretty obvious what the grunt meant.

The remote had been left next to him, on the bedside table, along with the knife. He grabbed for the remote and turned up the TV - he didn’t need to hear Habit jacking off.

Or, rather, he really wanted to listen, but he really didn’t want to have to think about it later. And he didn’t want to be a total creep.

That didn’t stop him from replaying the single sound he’d heard in his mind as he undid his own pants and removed the issue that had formed just from thinking briefly about what Habit might be doing to himself in there.

Habit obviously had more stamina than he did, because he was finished pretty soon, but Habit hadn’t yet left the bathroom. He chalked it up to his body wanting it to be over with so that proper blood flow could begin again. And he decided that it was _probably_ best to take the time he had left to himself to clean up his small mess and tuck himself back into his pants.

He turned his attention to the TV, finally, and decided he’d better check and see if there were any reports of Habit being missing yet. He flicked through the channels until he found the one he remembered was a station in New Jersey. If there was anything, it’d be on there.

 _“Back to you, Jen.”_ Well, here was his chance. _“Thank you, Dave. In other news, Habit Jennings, a 17 year old high school student from…”_ Yep. There was a report. “ _... still missing. Friends and family have been searching for him since about one thirty on the afternoon of…”_ He wondered if they’d found anything yet. If they were buying the possible suicide story. _“... Investigators are still looking into the possibility that he is still alive, but are beginning to think they may be dealing with a suicide. Evidence found in the boy’s room - including a bloodstained knife, a note, and some bloody clothes and bandages - seem to suggest this as a possibility. More on this story tonight at 10.”_

It was probably best that they leave in the morning. Sooner or later, someone here would find the news reports on Habit, and they’d call it in. Sure, they’d signed into the hotel without giving their real names (for a price, of course), but someone would recognize him. They couldn’t afford that.

The bathroom door finally opened about ten minutes after the report. Habit had obviously cleaned the blood from his hands and, indeed, taken care of his issue.

“Oh.” Habit’s eyebrows went up. “I wasn’t expecting you to wake up so soon. How you feelin’?”

“Like I let a psychopath cut me open and attempt to pull my guts out.” Noah meant it as a joke, but it came out flat.

Habit laughed anyway as he sat down on the bed. “Why are you watching the news?”

“I was checking to see if the police had any leads on you. They’re starting to feel like they have no choice but to pursue the one you left behind.”

Habit hummed. “Why would you want to know?”

“So I know how soon we need to leave. Which would be tomorrow, because if I saw the report, who knows who else around here did.”

A slow nod. “Alright. But are you sure you wanna get on the road when you’ve got fresh wounds?”

“I’ll survive.” Noah frowned at him. “How long do I have to keep the stitches in, by the way?”

“Mm… ‘Bout two weeks, I think.” He thought about it for a moment. “Yeah. Two weeks, tops.” He poked the first wound. “Meanin’ these come out at some time next week.”

Noah winced. “Did you have to touch it?”

“Sensitive?” Habit teased.

“Fuck yourself.” Noah looked away.

This was _bullshit_. Why did he have to have a crush on _this guy_?! Why couldn’t it have been Evan? He’d always thought Evan was cute, so why couldn’t he have fallen for him instead? He wanted to continue but that thought made him stop dead - since when had he _fallen_ for Habit? It was probably a fluke; after all, it did get annoying to think the word “crush” too many times. Yeah. That was _totally_ it.

“Don’t be like that.” Habit sighed. He actually sounded somewhat upset by Noah’s response, which was… Weird. “I’m only teasing. It’s how I am.”

“I know.” He sighed right back at him. He couldn’t stay mad at him long. “I’m just… Not in the mood. At all. This situation is honestly kind of ruining the chill I had.”

“I could always put you back in that state.” Habit offered.

“Haven’t you jerked off enough already?”

Habit snorted. “Who says I’m gonna get off on it twice in one day?” A grin and a poke to the ribs, “Maybe I have a limit.”

“Doubtful.”

“Still. I wouldn’t mind helping you relax again.” He said, all honesty and eye contact despite the shit-eating grin on his face.

“Only because you get to mutilate me.” Noah countered with more humor than he thought he could muster at the moment.

Habit laughed at him. “That might have something to do with it.” He admitted, tone still speaking of openness, but with an air of joking to it. “Seriously, though. If you want me to help, I’ll figure something out.”

It took Noah a moment to decide; in the end, he agreed. He was _not_ expecting to be yanked back down the bed and pinned down with a hand around his throat. He wasn’t arguing, though.

“Good?” Habit paused, raising a brow.

It was kind of sweet, really.

“I said as long as you don’t kill me anything goes, remember?” Noah quirked a brow.

“Just checking. Don’t wanna make you _too_ uncomfortable. You _are_ willingly letting me fuck you up, after all.” Habit gave an experimental squeeze to Noah’s throat. “You still sure?”

Noah, who’d found himself panicking somewhat at the squeeze, took a breath. “Yeah. Little more warning next time?”

“No problem.” He tightened his grip only slightly in warning, then squeezed tighter. “That a good enough warning?”

“Y-yeah.” Noah took solace in the fact that Habit wasn’t squeezing hard enough to completely cut off his breathing. Not yet. And, Hell, he might not even squeeze that tight this time. “That’s good.”

“Good.” He tightened his grip ever so slightly, almost hard enough to cut off blood flow, then squeezed harder, pressing down a bit. Noah gave a rather startled wheeze, for lack of a better word. His back arched, eyes tearing up slightly, again more out of fear than pain. Habit shushed him, giving him a fond look reminiscent of the way one might look at a pet or a child. “Don’t worry. I’m not even gonna knock ya out, Maxwell. Just gonna get ya close to it.”

That did little to calm Noah’s nerves, but it was nice that he’d told him, regardless.

He spent the next fifteen minutes or so having his throat squeezed to the point of black spots appearing in his vision only to be released and allowed to breathe. He’d catch his breath, and then the process would start again. And, _fuck_ , it actually _felt good_. Not just vaguely, like being cut into. He actually _really_ liked it. He could feel himself twitching in his jeans.

Habit noticed (he obviously noticed), but he didn’t say anything, and Noah was thankful.

He climbed off him when he was done (although not without unabashedly rolling his hips to rub himself against Noah’s leg with a soft grunt) and made his way over to the cooler they’d bought. Totally nonchalant. Totally _annoying_.

“You want a sandwich or somethin’?”

It took a lot of self-control not to groan. “Yeah. A sandwich would be nice.”

Habit gave a noise of acknowledgement and went about making both of them a sandwich. Noah was sorely tempted to just jerk off again, Habit’s presence in the room be damned, but he didn’t do it. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to. Besides, he didn’t want Habit to see how quick he’d blow at the moment.

Not like it was really _his_ fault his dick was hard as diamonds at the moment and about a minute away from… Yeah. But it would just be embarrassing to make Habit think he was a minute-man, because he would never fucking hear the end of it. He’d have to explain himself, and then he’d never hear the end of _that_.

Habit handed him the sandwich he’d made for him and sat down at his side. Still nonchalant. Already chewing on the first bite of his own sandwich. He didn’t say anything. Noah chose to follow his example, and they ate in relative silence. The news was still playing in the background, and after a bit Noah decided to actually tune in. Not that anything interesting was going on, of course, but at least it was something to pay attention to…

For a total of about two minutes, but still. He did pay attention for a bit, and it distracted him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you got off on being choked?” Habit’s voice was amused, but he seemed to be trying to be careful about it.

Honestly, he didn’t want to answer that. But he finally sighed and said, “I didn’t know. But you were getting off on it, too, so don’t even start with me.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Habit put his hands up in surrender. “I was just going to ask if you wanted some help with the resulting issue, since it’s… Kinda my fault.”

Noah blinked once. Twice. “Wait, seriously?”

Habit thought about it. “Yep.” He finally said.

It was Noah’s turn to think. It really wasn’t so much a question of  whether or not he wanted Habit to touch his dick as it was a question of whether or not he wanted to tell Habit he wasn’t going to last long. And that question was a difficult one. Again, he didn’t want to be seen as a minute-man or have to explain himself, since he would never hear the end of either. However, Habit _was_ the one who brought it up…

“I’d kind of feel like I had to help you, too.” Noah eventually admitted.

“I can take care of it myself.” Habit waved a hand. “I just figured you might want some help since you’re obviously still a little woozy from blood loss - and probably will be for a while, mind. And, again, because it’s my fault and it’s only fair I help.”

So much for that attempt to get out of it without having to explicitly tell him no or why not. Eh, oh well, he might as well get it over with.

“Well, see, um… I was _really_ enjoying that. Like, a _lot_.” He began, watching Habit nod in acknowledgement. “And, uh… I don’t think I’d last very long, honestly. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

Habit snorted and waved his hand again. “I don’t care how long you last. None of my business, even if I will probably rib you about it a bit.” He laughed at Noah’s responding grimace. “Do you want me to or not?”

“... Yeah.”

“Get yourself situated, then.”

Habit waited for him to lower his knees back down from his chest and scoot down a bit without a word. Noah chewed on his lip nervously, regardless. This was still an awkward and nerve-wracking situation for him, no matter how quiet Habit was being.

Habit straddled his thighs again. His hands deftly undid Noah’s pants, and within three minutes he had Noah squirming under him and then stiffening up. Two more strokes and Noah spilled into his hand with a soft cry and bright pink cheeks. Habit chuckled, and he wasn’t sure if he was laughing because of the look on Noah’s face or the fact that he hadn’t been kidding when he said he wouldn’t last long. Either way, it got him swatted and grumbled at.

He didn’t mind.

He removed himself from Noah’s legs and got off the bed, tossing him a rag from the bathroom before shutting himself in. Noah knew what he was doing.

When he was finally done, he fell into the bed next to his half-asleep companion and, as he’d done every night since they’d gotten here, pulled him to his chest and buried his face in his hair. He was used to cuddling the people he shared a bed with. It was instinct. There was nothing special about Noah, but he didn’t think it was really necessary to bring it up. He was sure Noah already knew.

And, if he didn’t, he’d figure it out when Habit went right back to sleeping on his own once they got to Florida.


	10. Florida

They decided to take the last leg of their drive to Florida in one fell swoop, with no more motel stays. Sure, they’d probably stop to rest a bit, but both of them were pretty against staying anywhere for longer than a few hours until they got to Noah’s house. Obviously they’d be staying there for a considerably longer amount of time.

An indefinite amount of time, actually.

After about seven hours of driving, they pulled off the road into a small clearing. Still another five and a half to go, and Habit wasn’t in the mood for more driving. They probably could have continued on for another few hours if Habit would let Noah drive, but they’d had that discussion already. And Noah was exhausted. He slept for five and a half of the six hour drive, and he was ready to go back to sleep.

Habit blamed the blood loss. Noah was hard pressed to disagree with him.

They only stopped for a couple of hours. Long enough for Habit to catch a cat nap, but not long enough for him to be well rested. He was irritated, with bruises beginning to form beneath his eyes, but he didn’t seem interested in staying any longer. Noah wanted to insist they rest a little more - after all, Habit had only gotten about two hours of sleep the night before -, but he didn’t want to test Habit’s patience any more than he had to.

So they were on the road again about three hours after they stopped, and Habit was considerably less talkative than he’d been on the first leg of the trip.

It was a little after two in the morning when they pulled onto the main road of Noah’s home town. It was nearly three when they got to his street. They were driving slowly, much slower than the speed limit, but no one seemed to be out and about, so it bothered no one. It wasn’t really a surprise, to Noah. His town tended to be pretty calm at night.

His parents’ car wasn’t in the driveway when they pulled up.

Admittedly, that was odd. His parents never went anywhere that late or stayed out after midnight unless it was urgent as hell. He doubted they were out looking for him - they’d have called by now. And it wasn’t like he didn’t keep his phone on his person at all times; he’d know if they’d called him.

No matter how out of the ordinary it was, though, he took it as a blessing. They’d have his head if they heard him sneaking in at three am after disappearing for… How long had he been gone? He’d lost track, really. But either way, they’d be pissed if they were home, even if they hadn’t realized he’d been missing for however long he was gone.

He had a curfew, after all.

And it was _definitely_ not three in the morning.

“They usually gone in the middle of the night?”

“No. But we might as well take advantage of it.” Noah shrugged and - with an increasing sense of embarrassment the longer it went on - struggled to unbuckle himself.

He nearly kicked the door open once he’d managed, face bright red and vision going somewhat blurry from the displacement of blood and his grogginess. Habit, despite his previous bad mood, laughed at him, and rather loudly too. He tried to ignore it as he tugged the back door open and grabbed his bag. It was difficult, sure, but he managed for the most part.

He had to dig around for his house key for a bit, but he did eventually find it.

Habit whistled softly as he followed his lead, all the way up to the front door. The key slid into the lock. Clicked. They were in.

Everything was dark inside, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. Noah wasn’t worried about being stealthy. That was why he went ahead and flicked on the living room lights and threw his bag onto the floor. That was why he didn’t bother muffling his footsteps on the way into the kitchen to get spaces ready for the food they’d brought with them.

The first four cabinets he opened were empty.

If he’d been holding anything he probably would have dropped it. An empty driveway was one thing, but empty _cabinets_? The cabinets were _never_ empty. His parents, at the very least, kept a decent sized store of canned goods. He hurriedly went through the remaining cabinets, and found only two of them contained anything. A few cans of green beans, some corn, fruit cocktail, and one or two beef raviolis in one cabinet, and snacks of varying types in the other.

He tried not to freak out. Maybe they’d just done some cleaning. Went through the cabinets and finally threw out expired cans. Yeah. That made plenty of sense. They were always stocking up, never throwing anything out until they randomly went through the cabinets and threw some shit away.

Yeah. That was it. That was all. They’d cleaned out the cabinets and then they’d gone somewhere.

Maybe they took a vacation?

Sure. Why not.

He wasn’t sure why he cared, though. It wasn’t like they gave much of a shit about him anymore anyway. They hadn’t even _called_ him. And he realized he cared _a lot_ when he stopped to consider how many times he’d had that thought. He cared _too much_ in comparison to them.

He was starting to get up from the floor when Habit entered the room with their cooler. “Where we puttin’ all this, Maxwell?”

“Just put the jerky and snacks wherever.” He waved a hand. “I’ll clear a spot in the…” He trailed as he opened the fridge. Empty. “... Fridge.”

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“It’s empty.”

The way he said it must have alerted Habit to that not being normal. To that being _concerning_. Habit didn’t even think before he placed a comforting hand on Noah’s shoulder. He didn’t comment when Noah let the refrigerator door close and turned to him, looking somewhat lost. And he didn’t argue when Noah hugged him. He returned the embrace and found himself rubbing Noah’s back soothingly.

“Hey, chill.” He eventually muttered. “As long as they’re not here, we’re in charge of the house, right?” Noah nodded into his shoulder, and he tried to work his grin into his tone. “Then let’s enjoy it while it lasts, yeah? We’re practically adults now!”

“You’re going to be an adult in November, don’t rush yourself too much.” Noah chided.

Besides the overwhelming dread that being reminded of that caused him, the words that had brought it on had had their desired effect. Noah didn’t look like he was about to start hyperventilating any second anymore. That was all Habit wanted. He didn’t know how to deal with a panicking Noah Maxwell and he really wasn’t keen on having to figure it out. But he _was_ pretty good at preventing panic attacks, so he could probably do that for… Well, as long as he needed to, really.

Eventually Noah would get over whatever about this was bothering him so much and then they could have some semblance of a normal life. Like… As roommates or something.

That seemed like a good long-term goal.

On the subject of his upcoming birthday, however, he guessed in this situation being 18 in a couple of months was a good thing. Because after he turned 18 he could do pretty much whatever he wanted and his parents could no longer really _make_ him come home. He could decide to go back whenever he wanted, if that ever happened. If they ever managed to shake that _thing_ off, he could go home. And, sure, he’d have to explain why in the hell he disappeared for however many years, but he was sure he could come up with something.

When they’d finally gotten everything put away and settled down for the time being, the sun was beginning to rise. They both flopped onto the couch. Habit made sure to groan melodramatically as he did so. It earned him a laugh and a punch in the shoulder from Noah.

Good enough for him.

“Okay, drama queen. Can you be normal for ten seconds?”

“Mm… No, don’t think so.” Habit gave him a grin.

There were a few minutes of silence, during which Noah began to doze off yet again, before both of their stomachs grumbled within less than thirty seconds of each other. Noah laughed again, having been, for a second or two, somewhat startled by the noise, for a reason he couldn’t place.

“I guess I need breakfast before I go to bed.” He looked to Habit.

“Guess so.” Habit gave a laugh as well. “I think we brought some poptarts, so maybe that’ll tide us over. Seems unfair for me to bother cooking anything when you can’t eat bacon.”

“Please.” Noah rolled his eyes. “I’m used to people around me eating things I can’t.”

“Still. I’m actually kind of trying not to be a huge douche.” Habit sat up. “And purposely making food I know you can’t eat and eating it in front of you? That’s something a huge douche would do. Proof? I used to do it to Evan after I found out he couldn’t eat bologna.”

That got Noah’s attention as he sat up as well. “Why can’t he eat bologna?”

“Apparently, despite liking the taste and everything, it makes him throw up every time he eats it.”

“Huh.” Noah stretched. “Well, at least I’d have the advantage of having never tried bacon and not knowing whether or not I like it.”

“But then wouldn’t you want to try it?”

“Well, yeah, but I mean… If I’ve never tried it, I can’t be sure I’d like it, and my religion prevents me from eating it to find out. Whereas Evan _likes_ bologna and can’t eat it because it makes him sick.” A pause. “Am I making sense?”

“Somewhat.” Habit waited for him before heading toward the kitchen.

They froze, as one, when they saw that _thing_ standing outside the window.

Habit tensed from head to toe, like he wanted to fight. And he probably would have fought it if it wasn’t outside. And if his attention didn’t move to Noah after he heard him curse loudly.

Noah’s breath was beginning to speed up, heartbeat skyrocketing along with it. He felt like he was _dying_ and he knew exactly what was wrong. He could tell, even past the racing of his mind, breathing, and heart. He knew what was happening. He was having a panic attack. He was having a panic attack and he was hyperventilating and his body was too weak for that.

Black spots danced across his vision. His legs went out from under him. Habit caught him, and then everything went dark.

He woke up on the couch, with birds singing and light streaming in through the windows. Habit was right next to him, exactly where he’d been before they’d gotten up, fast asleep.

Had it all been a dream then?

He guessed it was possible. Surely finally being back home would remind him of everywhere he’d ever seen that thing and every time he’d seen it as well. The only way to know for sure if he’d seen it or not would be to ask Habit when he woke up. And Lord knew that Noah wasn’t going to try and wake him up - one did not simply wake Habit up and leave the ordeal unscathed. Habit woke up when he was good and ready or when his alarm went off. Anybody who woke him up better have a damned good reason for doing so or he gave them a good reason to never do it again.

Noah doubted Habit would think the question, “Hey, did you have a weird dream where we saw ‘Stick-in-the-Mud’ too?” was important enough for him to tolerate Noah waking him up when he was obviously having a decent rest at the moment.

Besides, Noah didn’t really want to disturb somebody if they were resting well, anyway. As someone who had _serious_ trouble sleeping the past year or so, that just seemed cruel. He’d hate to be woken up out of a good sleep, considering how rare they were.

He got up, stretching, deciding he’d just wait to find out, but as he looked around, he realized something. Something _important_.

This wasn’t his living room. It was the same couch, yes. All the furniture was there. But it wasn’t his living room. The layout was entirely different, the walls painted a completely _wrong_ color, and…

It just _wasn’t_ his living room. Which could only mean one thing.

_They weren’t in his house._

Immediately, he was next to Habit again and shaking him awake. “Dude, c’mon, something’s wrong!”

“Fuck is it?” Habit grumbled as he sat up.

As soon as he opened his eyes, though, he appeared to realize exactly what it was. Habit had an eye for detail - of course he noticed the different paint color on the walls. Especially since it was such a drastic change from the color Noah’s living room had been painted. Where his home was painted an off-white pretty much all the way through, this room was a hazel, and from what he could see of the kitchen it was a dark beige.

“Where the hell...?” Habit trailed, either because he realized Noah was just as clueless as he was or because he was too busy racking his brain to continue.

There was a silence. Noah finally decided to check the rest of the house - after all, there might be clues about where they were. And why all of his furniture was in a house that was _obviously_ not his.


	11. Figuring it Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to note, in advance, that I will not be updating this story at all next month. All of my focus is going toward schoolwork and my NaNoWriMo project.  
> Also, as I've had a good deal of homework lately (being a college student and all), I may miss the next update. My apologies if that happens, but it can't really be helped.  
> Thanks.

After they got over the initial shock and fear, it was actually pretty fun to explore the new house.

They found, throughout it, all of Noah’s furniture, and all of the food that they’d had in his house. One of the bedrooms held all of his things, and the bathrooms were each fully stocked. There were three empty bedrooms - and by ‘empty’, they meant _empty_.

The walls were painted white, the floors were the same as the hallway’s, and there weren’t even windows or closets. They were essentially just blank canvases.

Habit claimed the largest room, one equal in size to Noah’s, as his. “Until further notice,” he said, but they both knew they’d probably be here for quite some time.

Surprisingly enough, even to him, Noah was actually beginning to be somewhat thrilled about the ordeal. Mostly because he now lived in a two story house with four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a decent kitchen and living room, an attic, and a basement. And he now lived with a guy who had, previously, been nothing if not standoffish to him and was, recently, considerably nicer. As for his parents not being in the picture now… Well, he was starting to get used to that idea.

He kind of liked it, if he was honest, even if he was worried something had happened to them.

Around noon, they both headed into the kitchen and Habit gathered some ingredients. He wasn’t sure what he was going to cook (while Noah wasn’t sure what he _could_ cook with four cans of green beans, three cans of corn, half a pound of ground beef, and little to no seasoning that he was aware of), but he seemed to be coming up with a plan of some sort. Or at least Noah _assumed_ he was coming up with something. He was muttering to himself as he went over their sparse ingredients over and over, occasionally shaking his head.

“You got any meat tenderizer?” He finally asked of Noah.

“If I do, it’s in the cabinet above the stove.” Noah gave a shrug. “That’s where they said they kept the seasonings.”

Habit gave a rather disgruntled hum and headed over to open said cabinet. Noah tried not to laugh at the fact that Habit had to get up on his tiptoes to reach. After all, he liked having his bodily extremities. He’d rather not lose them over something small.

It paid off, thankfully, and his attempts only had to go on for about thirty seconds until Habit had procured all of the spices from the cabinet and set them out on the stove so he could look over them. Noah was almost impressed - he hadn’t realized his parents kept such an impressive stock of seasonings.

After a bit, Habit set aside a few bottles and put the rest of them away again, and then set about cooking. “This is more of a dinner-type meal, I’ll admit.” He said as he began to assemble the necessary utensils, “But it’s better than nothing, and I feel like cooking.”

“We can go shopping later.” Noah shrugged. “Nobody’s gonna be looking for you down here…” He stopped, remembering where they were.

Which was, to his knowledge, the middle of Bum Fuck Egypt.

“Fuck.” Was all he said after that.

Habit gave him a rather half-hearted laugh in reply. It seemed to have set in for him, too, that they were in the middle of nowhere. That they were stuck in this house until they could find a way back into civilization, which might not actually be possible.

It made Noah shiver, and they spent the rest of the time it took for Habit to finish cooking in silence.

In the end, he made burgers, and they used sandwich bread as buns. It didn’t seem to be anything unusual to Habit, but that was the first time Noah had ever done it. His parents always went out of their way to buy the necessary things to make any type of food they cooked. But, he reasoned, his parents made more money than Habit’s parents did. Not a whole lot, judging by the Jennings’ house and their general quality of life, but enough that they could afford to go out of their way to buy extra things and still pay for everything and have a little bit of money left over.

Noah also hadn’t expected to enjoy green beans and corn as a side to a burger, but it actually wasn’t half bad. He was kind of surprised how much better Habit’s cooking was than he’d been expecting - Habit was, to him, a destroyer, not a creator.

He told him as much, although he may have excluded the last part.

Habit laughed, wiping his mouth. “You think my cooking’s good, you should try Ev’s. He’s the real cook in the family. I’m just… _Mildly_ gifted, but Ev? Ev’s like a cooking _god_ or something. He’s never even burnt a piece of toast.” He continued, between bites of food, and Noah lost track of what he was talking about, but it was nice to just be able to listen. To listen and watch Habit grin and gesture.

Habit seemed, on some level, to understand that he wasn’t paying attention. Or, at least, Noah assumed he did, because he never said anything that required much of a response past a hum or a, “Yeah, okay,” which was one of the good things about Habit. If anybody knew the feeling of just wanting to listen to somebody talk, it was probably him. Lord knew he spent a lot of his time when he was upset or just not feeling great in general just listening to Lyra ramble about her interests.

His devotion to her would be kind of cute if she and Evan weren’t a catalyst for Habit getting pulled into Noah’s world of bullshit. Not that they could really be blamed, though. It wasn’t like they _knew_ \- how could they, when Habit refused to tell them anything?

Habit dutifully did up the dishes once they were both done eating, and then headed back up to the room he’d claimed. Probably planning to set it up so it was at least semi-comfortable.

When Habit opened the door, he was expecting the same bland, empty room he’d left about an hour before.

Instead, he found himself staring at his bedroom back home. His bed up against the wall next to the window, bedside table six inches from the edge of his headboard. His posters littered the walls, but between them he could see the walls were very obviously painted the soft lavender he’d decided on many years ago, and had never bothered to change despite developing a taste for darker shades of purple.

This was _his_ room. From New Jersey.

There was no reason any of his stuff should be here at all, except for the things he’d brought with him. But for all of it to be here, set up exactly as it had been when he left? That was a little bit too much for him to handle. And it was certainly cause for concern.

Without another thought, he found himself hurrying back down the stairs, past a perplexed Noah, and right out the front door of their temporary home. When he stumbled through it, he expected to end up in the middle of the woods, as the windows he’d looked through had implied, but instead… He emerged onto Noah’s front porch. In Florida. Right where they _should_ have been.

But glancing over his shoulder back into the house showed it was still the strange house in the woods that they’d woken up in.

He shared a perplexed look with Noah, and then slowly stepped back inside.

He wasn’t sure what to make of this.


	12. Tribe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, quick thing -  
> Thank you for all the kudos and positive comments. It means a lot. It's what keeps me writing this when I really don't feel like I'm capable of finishing a chapter. It's the only reason I got this one up on time.  
> So thank you.  
> If I wasn't getting clear proof that people were enjoying this, the update schedule would be a mess and it'd probably never get finished. But you do give me proof, and  
> Just  
> Yeah.  
> Thanks.  
> You can read the chapter now.

They’d been living in the strange house for almost a week now, and Noah had to say things were going much better than he was really expecting them to. Sure, he and Habit still weren’t exactly ‘friends’ in the traditional sense, but…

Well, they were certainly getting there.

Getting to know each other, of course, wasn’t the only thing going on. In fact, a lot of other things were happening more often and with greater effect. Not that either of them was really _trying_ to get to know the other. Honestly, that bit was still… Somewhat awkward.

One thing that had happened was they’d found that injuries didn’t seem to stick while they were in the house. It had come as some surprise to both of them, when they finally got around to checking, but Noah’s stitches were gone and the wounds that they’d held closed healed. The scars left behind were faint, which was a clear sign that something else was at work.

Habit was only too happy to say that the extremely shoddy job he’d done stitching him up would have left deeper, uglier scars.

Needless to say, despite a pretty distinct lack of vanity of any sort, Noah was glad that they’d healed up as quickly and nicely as they had, rather than the grueling process that would have occurred otherwise and left him with nasty reminders of his own stupidity and Habit’s questionable mental state. Not really something he wanted to have to see every time he took off his shirt. He had enough reminders as it was.

The current moment found them in the living room, watching some show on Netflix. Noah wasn’t really paying attention - he’d let Habit pick it. They didn’t really have many common interests, honestly. Still, it seemed to be a pretty okay show, from what he’d gathered when he actually tuned in.

The snippets he got of the opening sequence were all he had to tell him what it was called, since Habit was pretty involved in watching it and didn’t seem to want to pause it. Unfortunately, they’d now watched enough episodes that it skipped the opening. Because, it appeared, Habit intended to binge the whole show - they were already halfway through the first season -, he didn’t really want to interrupt to ask what they were watching. He could just wait. Eventually he’d see the title.

Or zone in enough to actually know what was happening.

Obviously, that didn’t happen. He only got to see the title of the show when Habit finally got hungry and paused it to head into the kitchen to cook. Some show called “ _Hemlock Grove._ ”

Whatever, he wasn’t really _that_ interested at the moment. He’d look into it when he was.

Since cooking seemed to put Habit in a shockingly good mood, Noah followed him into the kitchen and decided that maybe it was time he actually made an effort to get to know his houseguest. Not that he expected Habit to go along with it or make an attempt of his own. That’d be okay. The more he knew about Habit, the better, and the less Habit knew about him… Well. It was the same way there.

“What’re you making?” Was his first question, which admittedly wasn’t a great start. Oh, well. It’d let him segue into the others.

“Haven’t decided yet. How do you feel about spaghetti?” Habit glanced at him over his shoulder while he rummaged through the cabinets.

Said cabinets were, through Habit’s good will and willingness to waste his money on survival, almost full once again.

“Spaghetti’s fine.” Noah said noncommittally, because he really couldn’t care less as long as it was Habit’s cooking and not his own. “So, Habit… Answer a few questions for me? I’m curious and bored.”

“Sure.” Habit hummed, setting up to begin cooking.

Noah took a moment to examine the kitchen before he did so. It was larger than the one in his parents’ home, that was for sure, and much more suited to the way Habit went about cooking. He used a great deal of counter space for preparation, and it was somewhat entrancing to watch him go about it. He insisted he was only “mildly gifted” in the kitchen, but Noah believed it to be an understatement.

“I think I already know the answer to this one, but what’s your favorite color?”

Habit shot him a grin. “Purple.”

“Thought so.” Noah couldn’t help grinning back at him. “Favorite movie?”

“It’s a tie between the original Nightmare on Elm Street and any of the Chucky movies.” He seemed to want to ask something, himself, but didn’t.

“I really should have guessed… Um. Favorite book?”

“Anything by Stephen King, Edgar Allen Poe, or Rick Riordan.” Habit gave a sigh. “Hey, listen, I’m all for whatever you’re trying to do here, whether it be getting to know me or attempting to find something to blackmail me with at some point, but this is aimless and going nowhere.”

“I disagree.” Noah sat down at the table. “But what would you suggest instead?”

“A game, of sorts.” Habit glanced at him again. “One of us will supply a subject, and both of us have to answer whatever question we come up with for that subject.”

“Alright, sure. You wanna come up with the first subject and question?”

“Sure.” He chuckled. “Okay. Subject for now is the internet.” He thought as he adjusted the burners he was using. “Let’s start with Tumblr.” A snort, from both of them. “What’s your url - or what would your url be if you had a Tumblr?”

Noah laughed. “My url is ‘the brand of fire’ - no spaces. And yours?”

Habit pressed his lips into a line, trying to hide a grin. He stood silently for a moment, somewhat distracted by his cooking and unwilling to answer just yet besides. Finally, he let out a puff of air, still obviously amused, and said, “Well, my original url was ‘bad habit’ - no spaces -, but I changed it to ‘violent thrills habits kill’, with a dash between thrills and habits.”

“You seem to find that awfully amusing.” Noah noted, even as he stifled his own chuckle at how _obvious_ a name like that was for Habit.

The only funny part that he could actually find was just how obvious it was, how much he expected it. Habit was _horribly_ predictable on some things. And Noah didn’t doubt that Habit knew that, which probably contributed to the way he was still laughing about it.

“I don’t, it’s just… Thinking about the fact that everyone who knows me who even glances at that username will think it’s me - _that_ I find amusing. Just - Jeff’s scrolling through Tumblr, looks over at the recommended blogs and sees that username, and goes, ‘... That has _got_ to be Habit.’ It’s kinda just… Great to think about.”

Noah smiled. “I guess it is.” He admitted. But he wouldn’t admit that he was only smiling because _damn_ Habit was cute when he laughed. “What type of stuff do you post?”

“Violent aesthetics, horror stories, crime stuff… Y’know.” Habit shrugged at him, still grinning. “You?”

“Literally whatever the hell I want.”

Habit laughed again. “Fair enough.”

They continued back and forth for a bit. They got off topic, on occasion, but Habit (who paid a lot more attention than Noah had previously given him credit for) always directed them back to the game. They discussed various usernames, types of posts, preferences, and everything that related to their online topics before moving on to other things, such as movies. They talked about their favorite genres, directors, actors, and that segued into them talking about their favorite video game developers and characters, and especially their favorite games.

They took a brief break to eat, then moved into the living room. Habit changed the show over from _Hemlock Grove_ to _Forensic Files_ , so he could afford to not pay attention. Noah could respect that, even if they did both end up staring at the screen on more than one occasion while Peter Thomas’s dulcet tones told horrible tales.

Like earlier, however, Habit was always the one who got them back on track.

Around midnight, they left the couch and laid out all the pillows and blankets they could find on the floor while Habit laughed about the idea of camping out in the living room. Noah made popcorn while Habit set the rest of their ‘sleep over’ up. He wasn’t sure how they’d ended up deciding to do this, but he wasn’t complaining. It was… Kind of nice. Habit was finally treating him as more than just a reluctant companion, and they finally actually sort of knew each other.

It wasn’t something Noah would have believed possible before his visit to New Jersey.

He prepared to head back into the living room with his bowl of popcorn, but decided he’d better go ahead and make another bag and top off the bowl. He was in the process of doing exactly that when Habit joined him and began rummaging through the cabinets for the second time that night.

“You remember where I put all the sodas?” He asked as he grabbed a box full of fruit flavored gummies.

Noah snickered - of course Habit would want as much junk food as he could get while they watched… Whatever movies they decided to put on. “Pantry.” He answered simply. “By the way, what movies are on the agenda?”

“I was thinking we could watch something spooky. But not straight-up horror, y’know? I dunno how strong your stomach is for it.”

Noah thought that was pretty fair. “Alright. Got anything in mind?”

“Maybe Sleepy Hollow… Donnie Darko? Stuff like that, at the very least.”

“Sure.” He dumped the new bag of popcorn into the bowl and headed back for the living room. “We’ll just steadily work up in the spooky and see what I can handle. If we’re going to be living together I’ll have to get used to horror eventually.”

“No kidding.” Habit sniggered and followed him, now holding two bags of chips, the box of gummies, and a six pack of soda bottles.

They settled down on their shockingly cozy nest on the floor, got their food situated, and Habit scrolled through his list to find whatever movie he’d picked to watch first. Noah was in no way surprised when he found he’d picked _Sleepy Hollow_. Habit was, as he’d said himself before, a man of his word. And, of course, Noah didn’t mind watching _Sleepy Hollow_ \- he actually really liked that movie. More than he usually cared to admit.

His other friends tended to find it a little unnerving that one of his top five movies was the adaptation of a scary story made the year he was born. For some reason, liking scary movies just wasn’t something the people he knew could tolerate. At least not the people in Florida.

New Jersey was, quite clearly, a different story.

“You can hold my hand if you get scared,” Habit teased him as the movie started.

“Bite me.” Noah rolled his eyes, settling in better, “But don’t tempt me. You might not get your hand back if you let me hold it.”

Almost immediately he regretted saying it. If that hadn’t been an accidental flirt (and a clear indication of how he felt), he didn’t know what would count for that.

Thankfully, Habit was fucking _oblivious_. He didn’t take it as flirting - he took it as a threat. And he _laughed_.

“You’re not _that_ strong, Noah.”

Noah didn’t bother to argue with him.

They ended up huddled together, curled under their blankets, by three. They were asleep within thirty minutes. And Noah dreamed of a world where he wouldn’t have to have a panic attack every time he almost let Habit know how he felt. A world where he could actually _tell_ Habit and not chance any kind of backlash. A world where he could stop trying to delude himself into thinking it was “just a crush”, because it was starting to become obvious to him that it was more than that.

In his waking life, he hated that. But in the dream? He couldn’t have been happier.

That was the benefit of dreaming, he supposed. You could have everything you wanted and never have to expect something bad to happen like you did in real life. You could be yourself, completely, and nothing could go wrong unless you were just _that much_ of a pessimist.

Whatever.

He didn’t think about any of that until the morning.

For the moment, he lived in his dream, and he enjoyed every single second of it.


	13. Back Home, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first things first, I have absolutely no idea how to do the Rake justice in the way I've portrayed it, as I've only read articles on it and briefly witnessed it in Stan Frederick. So please just bear with what I've done with it in this story, as creative liberties are kind of the entire basis for this story.

“Concerned” no longer covered the level of worry Evan felt.

He’d been “concerned” when Habit had disappeared in the middle of the night. He’d been “concerned” when he’d stayed gone for a full week without answering his phone or read any of his messages on Facebook. He’d been “concerned” when the cops found all the bloody things in his room (and he’d been upset and angry at himself, during that, too).

No. “Concerned” was not what he was, now. He was _terrified_. He’d worried himself to the point of _tears_.

Habit had been gone for two weeks, now, and he still hadn’t answered or read a single message. He hadn’t been seen or heard from. His voicemail message hadn’t even changed. And if all that wasn’t scary enough, right after the one week mark hit, all of his stuff disappeared from his room. _All of it_. Even the paint on the walls was gone, leaving the off-white paint that had been below his purple.

Even his clothes were gone.

The police weren’t sure what happened - someone had been up there when stuff started to disappear, but they’d though they were crazy and ignored it as the posters began to vanish. Evan didn’t blame them. It sounded crazy. They probably _were_ crazy.

Or they took all his stuff to mess with them, which would be _really_ shitty. He might kill somebody for pulling something like that, and if he did it’d be completely justified, in his eyes. Anybody who fucked around with someone’s feelings like that deserved to die.

That really sounded like something Habit would say, and that didn’t make him feel any better.

That said, he wasn’t _completely_ inconsolable about any of this. He was, after all, the more light-hearted brother. It was easy for him to make jokes and cheer himself up. In times like this, that was an invaluable skill, and one that kept him going on the days when it was a little more rough.

And having Lyra around was certainly an asset, as well, because if he made a joke, she’d run with it. Not to mention she had her own theories on how Habit and all his stuff vanished without a trace. Sure, he didn’t really believe her on most of them, but it helped somewhat.

He rolled over, facing her where they laid on his bedroom floor. They did this a lot - it was just more comfortable than crowding into his twin-size bed. At least without cuddling super close to each other, which Lyra still wasn’t comfortable with most of the time. Not that he blamed her. As much as they looked alike, he wasn’t Habit, and he didn’t have the years of familiarity with her that Habit did. Just because she’d cuddle with Habit and not him didn’t mean much.

Okay, so it bothered him sometimes, but he’d learned to get over it. She’d been best friends with Habit most of his life, of course she’d get over her aversion to touch somewhat with him. Especially since Habit was, to the surprise of most people, a very touchy guy. He pretended he didn’t like hugs or cuddles, but he _loved_ them.

Lyra just wasn’t the touching type, and Evan did his best to accommodate her, even if it did leave him a little wanting in terms of physical contact with his girlfriend.

She rolled over as well, tilting her head the best she could at him, considering their position. “You got something on your mind, Ev?”

“Lots of things. Mostly… Y’know. _The_ thing.” He sighed. “How all his stuff is just…”

“I know.” She sighed as well. “You know, I have a new theory about that.”

Evan perked up a bit, propping himself up on his elbow. “Oh? I’m dying to hear about it.”

It got a small laugh from her. “Okay, so, I know my other ones have been really thought out and evidenced by a bunch of stuff, but like…” She had to pause, pressing her lips together in a smile. She knew Evan didn’t believe any of her theories, but she didn’t mind. The fact that he listened was enough. “This one’s really simple - Mothman kidnapped him.”

Evan couldn’t help the immediate laugh that wrenched its way out of his mouth. Lyra gave him time to sober up before continuing, “And then, Habit used his-” She snorted. “His _charming_ personality and _wonderful_ people skills-” This time, she laughed for bit while Evan waited patiently for her to finish. “To get him to bring him back and grab his stuff.”

Evan chuckled. “Why not convince him to just bring him back though?”

“Dunno, maybe Mothman’s secretly a psychologist and is helping Habit through whatever made him leave bloody stuff all over his room.”

Both of them snorted at that. Evan wasn’t sure what he found more amusing - the idea of Mothman being a psychologist, or the idea of Habit willingly getting help for anything. Both were ridiculous, of course. Habit was far too stubborn for that, and on the off chance that Mothman _did_ exist, Evan doubted his mundane cover would be a psychologist.

More likely he’d be a CPA or something like that.

That only made him laugh again, which made Lyra lift a brow at him. “What, what’s so funny?”

“I was just imagining Mothman being a CPA or a lawyer or something boring.”

“Oh, heck you.” She laughed.

* * *

Alex wasn’t sure how long he’d been awake. It’d been a couple of days, now, that was for sure. He just wasn’t certain if it had been two days or three. Or maybe it was four…

The point was, he had no clue.

He knew it had been a couple of days only because he was beginning to get fuzzy in the head. His fingers had gotten shaky around the first twenty-four hours, and now it was only getting worse. His whole body was shaking. Head to toe. It would be annoying if only he had it in him to feel annoyed, but he didn’t.

Jeff had asked him if he was alright, earlier. He’d told him he was fine, just having a little trouble sleeping. Jeff had told him that wasn’t what he meant, even if that was worrying him too. He asked about the long sleeves.

Alex told him he didn’t want to talk about it.

Jeff dropped the subject with obvious reluctance.

He couldn’t recall if “earlier” was today or yesterday, but it hardly mattered aside from the fact that, if it had been yesterday, still being holed up in his room now would look _really_ bad. That thought in mind, he got up, stumbled a bit, and shuffled to the doorway. His vision went black, ears ringing. He dealt with it and continued forward even though he couldn’t see for about three or four seconds, running into the door in the process. He shook his head to clear it more than to attempt to shake away the rest of the darkness in his vision, but it worked fairly well for both purposes.

He pulled the door open and padded out into the hallway, noting that it appeared to be around midday. That was, at most, troublesome. Midday meant that Jeff would be up, and Jessa might be around. While he didn’t particularly mind either one of them, he wasn’t really in the mood to be around them just yet. Especially not in the state he was in currently.

He knew he’d have to go back to sleep eventually, but he’d found that exhausting himself completely had let him escape the nightmares the past week, so he’d just keep going until he dropped. Worked last time, didn’t it?

He didn’t realize he’d said that aloud until he saw Jeff at the table, giving him an incredulous raised brow.

“What worked last time?” He asked while Alex shuffled to the pantry to find something to snack on.

Alex didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to explain it without seeming suspicious in some way, so he wasn’t even going to try. He just rifled through the pantry for a few minutes before snagging another pack of Pop-Tarts. He chose to go ahead and put them in the toaster this time, even if it did leave him stuck with Jeff for the time being.

In the middle of the pastries heating up, Jeff sighed deeply. “Alex, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He felt bad for the harsh tone to his voice, and he was sure Jeff could tell because he’d cringed as soon as he was done speaking. “Sorry. I just… It’s nothing you can help with, unless you know any ways to avoid recurring nightmares?” He had to admit, he really hoped Jeff had something for that.

“Aw, bud, why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Cuz you can’t help and I thought it was kind of useless.” Alex admitted. He still didn’t want to talk about it. He _definitely_ didn’t want to get into the details. But he knew if he stayed down here, he eventually would, and he did _not_ want that. At _all_. One wrong word and he had a one way ticket into a padded cell.

His Pop-Tarts chose that exact moment to, well, pop, and before Jeff could try to continue the conversation he had them on a paper plate and was on his way out of the room.

“Alex, come on! I’m worried about you.” He followed right behind him. “We already lost Hab, I don’t want to chance losing you too.”

“You won’t. I’m fine.” Alex felt a sting at the mention of Habit. He knew Jeff didn’t think he was dead, but the idea was still the same. Habit had disappeared and was as good as dead. Alex had obvious problems, or at least he thought so, and he worried he’d end up the same. “Even if I wasn’t, though, I’m not like Habit. I don’t run from my problems.”

That was uncalled for, and he knew it. He felt _terrible_. But it had its desired effect, and Jeff stopped dead halfway up the stairs, giving him a disbelieving look that was not lost on him despite his being unable to see it. He took advantage of the momentary pause to get back into his room and shut the door.

He had to set the plate down on the edge of his bed until he’d closed it, for fear of dropping it otherwise, and he found himself glad that he had. The moment the latch clicked and he’d taken half a step away, he found the floor rushing toward his face - or, rather, his face was rushing toward the floor.

He didn’t feel the impact, but he certainly heard the thud. And then everything faded out, and all he could think was “Oh, God, not now.”

He, of course, didn’t need to open his eyes to know that he hadn’t escaped the nightmare this time. He could feel the distinct difference in the air. He could hear the whispers. And he sobbed.

It was disconcerting enough to hear the whispering on its own, but this time he heard the distinct sound of his door opening and Jeff calling his name at the same time. He could feel Jeff shaking him, but his body didn’t move. And then there was a distinct weight on his back, the sound of whispering right in his ear, but at the same time he couldn’t feel or hear it.

 _“He cannot save you from your fate.”_ He heard the voice whisper. _“Nothing can save you.”_

“Alex, c’mon, wake up, buddy. Please, c’mon-” Jeff was, from what he could comprehend, only repeating that over and over again with some variation.

_“There’s only one person who can help you, but he doesn’t know how yet. He doesn’t even know he can. And you’ll never find him.”_

Something told Alex that it meant Habit. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he just… Did.

 _“Yes, boy. He is the one I speak of.”_ He felt the thing’s claws running across his head, over his beanie. He heard Jeff’s speech cut off suddenly, and heard him scramble backwards slightly. _“You will never get to him without help. Without an idea of where to go.”_

He took a chance on speaking, mumbling, “I don’t suppose you’ll help with that?”

It gave a crackly sounding laugh, like its throat was dry or something. _“You need only look to the friend with whom you discussed me before the other’s disappearance.”_

Noah. He had to talk to Noah.

_“Very good.”_

And just like that, he felt the pressure on his back cease. The real world came rushing back as his eyes slowly opened.

The first thing he noticed was Jeff backed up against his bed, staring at him. The second thing was a stinging pain in his back, and the third was an obvious set of three parallel scratches on Jeff’s arm. This wasn’t good. That thing had never managed to hurt him in the real world without doing it in the twisted little nightmare dimension he always saw it in. And it had certainly never gotten Jeff, too, to his knowledge.

He tried to push himself up so he could go to Jeff where he was only three feet away, but his arms gave out as soon as he attempted it, and the pain in his back intensified a thousandfold. He cried out, nails digging into the carpet. He’d never had much of a pain tolerance, and this wasn’t really doing much in terms of changing that.

“Jeff,” He managed to say when the pain had subsided and Jeff no longer looked quite so horrified. “are you okay?”

It took Jeff a moment to come up with an answer. He looked between Alex and his arm, then the apparent wound on Alex’s back. Finally, he slowly nodded. “I’m fine. But do you mind telling me what the fuck that was?”

“I don’t know.” Alex said honestly. “I only know it’s been tormenting me for months.” He tried, again, to get up, but only managed to roll onto his side.

Something seemed to click with Jeff then, however, and his eyes flickered between his own wounded arm and Alex’s covered ones. He didn’t say anything, but Alex nodded anyway.

“Why-” Jeff cut himself off. “You thought I wouldn’t believe you.” It wasn’t an accusation, wasn’t disbelieving in any way.

“More that I thought you would have me thrown in the loony bin for saying I was having a recurring nightmares and _somehow_ the subject of them was managing to cut me open and then fix all the messes the second I left the room.” A pause. “Since you’re capable of walking around, bro, do you think you could get my first aid stuff for us?”

“Sure, where…?” He was already on his feet.

He directed him to it, then directed him in exactly how to patch up the wounds. It seemed to unnerve Jeff that he was so calm about it, but the truth was that he’d just passed the point of being terrified. Either that or he was in shock. He wasn’t sure which.

Turned out, he was in shock.

Only after he’d helped Jeff fix himself up did what had happened fully set in. He held in the urge to cry for a moment, but eventually gave in when Jeff pushed his shirt up and swept an alcohol wipe over one of the scratches on his back. Jeff stopped what he was doing immediately, probably assuming it was his fault.

“No, no, it’s fine, go ahead.” He managed between shuddering breaths and incredibly weak sobs. “I just… Need to get this out.”

Jeff apparently took his word for it. He went back to fixing him up, and left the room for a moment in order to get some gauze from the bathroom. Alex’s eyes fell closed again once he was gone. He was still crying, a bit, but it had subsided into the occasional shake and sniffle. He almost actually felt his shirt fixing itself while Jeff was gone, but if Jeff noticed upon his return, he didn’t comment on it.

“I have to find Habit.” Alex finally said. “I think he might know how to stop this.”

“Not until you’ve healed.” Jeff said immediately. “And how would you find him anyway? We’ve all been trying ever since he disappeared.”

“Fair enough.” Alex agreed to the first bit, then sighed. “Anybody think to ask Noah? That’s where I’m gonna start.”

“Why would Noah know? He left on the last train, at like… Nine or ten at night… And Habit was home with Evan until like one in the morning.”

“Or so we’re expected to think.” Alex muttered. “I dunno. I’ve just got a hunch and I’m gonna roll with it.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll leave that to you. But if you find out where he is, I’m going with you to find him. I’m not losing you.”

“Okay,” Alex agreed.

He didn’t even feel bad for lying.


	14. Morality is Overrated Anyway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this story is about to get _real_ fucked up, kiddos, so brace yourselves.  
>  In other words, the plot thickens and some really gross and morally objectionable plot devices are put in place, and you'd better believe that I'm not toning _any_ part of it down. Not even the extremely morally objectionable stuff. This story was made to be a massive trainwreck of themes I don't normally explore, and they will be explored.

Waking up on the floor with an armful of his housemate was, to Habit’s chagrin, something he could get used to. It was nice, he’d admit, but he refused to admit that it was for any reason besides the fact that he was a cuddlebug. He didn’t need to start catching feelings.

He was pretty sure he wasn’t - _yet_ -, but he was _not_ touching that dumpster fire. Not until he was over the one that had put him into this situation, and he wasn’t sure that was ever going to happen. After all - wasn’t the saying that you never really got over the first?

Either way, as much as he hated it, he knew he enjoyed waking up cuddling someone, even if it was Noah.

The TV was still displaying suggestions for what to watch next after they’d finished _Donnie Darko_ the night before. Or, rather, after they’d fallen asleep halfway through the movie and it had merely continued to play. If he currently had both of his arms available for use, he’d have searched for the remote and rewound the movie to the last point he remembered seeing. As it was, he was stuck unless he wanted to chance waking Noah up, which he (to his own shock) didn’t.

So he just laid there until Noah finally stirred and rolled off of his arm.

The other didn’t wake up, so he took the opportunity to get up and go about some semblance of a morning routine while he waited for his left arm to regain feeling past the annoying pins and needles sensation. Turns out accidentally banging it against the kitchen counter was a viable method of waking it up, however. Suddenly he could sort of feel his fingers.

That was nice.

He, of course, took advantage of having use of his hand again. He immediately switched his coffee cup to that hand so he could open doors with his right hand, which was much more useful at the moment. Considering he had a full range of motion and pressure sensitivity in that arm, he figured it might as well see some use.

For the time, that meant gathering things up and moving them back where they were meant to be the best he could with only one hand capable of holding onto things properly without a great deal of concentration. Soon enough, he could feel his entire arm again, and after that his work moved much more swiftly.

Although he could have worked even _more_ swiftly if Noah’s lazy ass would get the hell up.

When he finally checked the clock, and Noah started to move around a little, it was about eleven in the morning. He guessed he couldn’t begrudge Noah that - they’d hadn’t fallen asleep until about three-ish that morning, and Noah needed sleep. He was a tired boy. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he needed all the sleep he could get.

Habit’s phone went off in his pocket.

He sighed and removed it, waiting for Vinny to give up or hang up before he finally checked his inbox and took note of the nearly 100 texts and 28 - nope, now it was 29 - voicemails. One off from his voicemail being full.

He sighed again. He might as well see who all had called and texted him, and listen to what they had to say. He knew one of the voicemails from today was Vinny’s, but he wasn’t sure about the rest, or how many of them were from today, though he knew Vinny had already called a total of twenty-seven times today, and it was unlikely he’d left a voicemail every time. Or even more than once in one day, really.

It was about time he checked, anyway.

He went through the texts in chronological order, then considered checking his facebook, but thought better of it. Messenger told him he had upwards of 45 messages waiting for him. It wasn’t worth everyone knowing he was online yet. He’d get around to them when he got onto his laptop later, where he not only had chat turned off for everyone, all the time, but also had an extension called “Facebook Unseen” that would prevent his friends from knowing he’d read the messages, and would also allow him to get rid of the annoying notification on his phone.

The texts were all pretty much the same. “Where are you?” was the most common phrase early on, followed by “This isn’t funny,” and then “Please just answer your phone.” He felt bad, on some level, but he knew he was doing the right thing. He was keeping them out of something that would surely get them hurt otherwise.

Maybe one day he’d be able to go back and clear everything up.

The least he could do right now was move onto listening to his voicemails and maybe making contact at some point later in the day. Or not, because that was scary now that he was thinking about it. He didn’t want to chance _anything_ , and talking to them would be chancing something. Something serious. It wasn’t worth it, but at the same time he couldn’t take continuing to ignore everyone he knew.

As much as he liked his alone time and loved being a huge dick to people, he was a social creature. He needed human contact in some capacity in order to keep going in life. Sure, he had Noah right now, but one person alone couldn’t keep him thriving for long.

Most of the voicemails early on were from Lyra - all three from the first day and two of the three from the second day. All of them after that were from Vinny. Lyra’s messages bordered on hysterical worry, likely because of the note he’d left. His heart broke apart in his chest. But Vinny’s messages… They started out much like the texts. Simple “where are you’s” and “Habit this isn’t funny anymore’s.” And then they slowly progressed toward hysterics by the fifteenth, before suddenly taking a turn toward pleading and desperation all the way up until the twenty-seventh message.

He’d moved back to the kitchen to listen to the messages because he didn’t want to wake Noah up unless he had to, and that was how he found himself crying at the kitchen table at 11:36AM. He was completely absorbed in his own world, but not so much he didn’t hear the other chair at the table sliding out.

“Need a hug?” Noah’s voice was quiet, rough with sleep, but somehow comforting to hear all the same.

He had already lost all pride for the moment anyway, so when his voice cracked when he said, “Please,” he didn’t bother to worry about it.

They didn’t say much after that, not until Habit had his emotions under wraps again, at least. Which was, admittedly, a good idea. Habit really didn’t want to accidentally let anything slip while he was distracted, even if he wasn’t sure about his real feelings on the matter yet. He’d keep his mouth shut until he had to about that.

One of today’s issues would probably end up going with him to his grave, and he didn’t mind that. The other might be solved by the end of the week, or never at all. He didn’t mind that either - or that was what he tried to tell himself, anyway. He knew he really _did_ mind that one, but he didn’t want to dwell on it.

When he finally shrugged Noah away a long time after he stopped crying, he’d managed to collect himself. He cleared his throat, popped his neck, and then said, with only a hint of the emotional strain he felt, “I need to ask you something.”

“Alright, shoot.”

He was astonished Noah could still sound so tired when he’d been up for at least half an hour now.

“Do you think that ‘it’ could spread to the phone or social media instead of personal contact?”

Noah shook his head. “Mm, no. After all, it only spread to you when we were alone in person and I talked to all the others via social media and phone calls for months and it never spread to them.”

Habit appeared to be somewhat comforted by that.

“Oh, and, erm… Thanks for starting to clean up. I finished up for you before I noticed you were crying.”

“No problem. But if you tell _anyone_ you’ve now seen me cry twice, I will _slaughter_ you.”

Noah didn’t doubt that one bit, knowing even just a little of what he was capable of. If he could cut him open and play with his organs and legitimately get off on it, he was almost scared to think of Habit attempting to kill him. He doubted it would be a good experience, even setting aside the fact he’d die. Chances were that he’d suffer for hours, maybe even days, before Habit got bored and ended it. Not something he was particularly keen on experiencing.

Though he wouldn’t mind the _other_ implications of Habit torturing him. He was sure that, if he was going to die in the end, Habit wouldn’t exactly be opposed to taking out his sexual frustrations on him. That would be an okay way to die - death by sex with a psycho he happened to be crushing on.

At least it would be better than some of the other alternatives fate seemed to currently have lined up for him. He had the possibility of sex and death by Habit, accidental death from Habit getting careless while taking out his aggression, death by strange eldritch demon thing, death by someone who might be working with/for the strange eldritch demon thing, and suicide, so of course sex and death sounded like the best deal, to him. Especially since Habit _might_ make it quick on him if the sex was satisfactory enough.

He shook his head to clear it, right as Habit’s phone began to vibrate on the table. An eyebrow lifted when he saw the caller ID.

Vinny was fucking _relentless_.

This time, Habit regarded the phone for a minute, picked it up, and stood, pacing to the other side of the kitchen and… Answering it? Well… Yeah, Noah guessed that made sense. He’d likely asked him about the spreading thing for this reason exactly - though it made him wonder what made Habit so eager to break his self-imposed isolation from his friends and family back home.

Was it Vinny’s relentless attempts to reach him? Or maybe something he’d said during one of his attempts?

Or maybe Habit was just getting lonely.

“Vince.” Habit said, and his voice wasn’t tight or angry like Noah expected. It wasn’t even flat the way Habit had wanted it to be. He sounded somewhere between relieved and incredibly upset.

He guessed that was pretty accurate, considering his current situation. Conflicted, as always.

“Habit, holy shit!” Came Vinny’s somewhat frantic sounding voice from the other end of the line. “Where are you? Are you okay? What the fuck happened?”

“Vin, chill.” Habit sighed. “Is Evan with you?”

“No. Do you want me to-”

“Absolutely not! Do _not_ let him know you’re talking to me right now.” Habit tried to calm himself, because he’d very nearly sounded panicked. He didn’t want that. He had to seem collected, or at least as collected as he normally was. “You can tell him you talked to me after I hang up, okay? But I just - I’m not ready to talk to him. Or you, really. I don’t know what to say.”

“How about starting with where you are?” The suggestion almost made Habit hang up.

“I can’t tell you that. If I do they’ll come get me and bring me home, and I don’t want that.”

“Why not?” Vinny demanded, actually sounding exasperated, which was kind of a feat in and of itself, “Habit, you disappear without a trace for _two weeks_ and ignore all attempts at contact, and now you’re being difficult too?”

“It’s what I do, Vin.” Habit felt himself grinning. Hey, old habits died hard - ha, _habits_ \- and enjoying making people frustrated likely wasn’t one that would ever die off. “And anyway, it’s for the best. If I’m here, and you guys don’t know where ‘here’ is, you can’t get involved by accident. Or at all.”

“You’re not making any sense.” His bespectacled friend informed him flatly.

“I know. I _am_ sorry about that. But telling you about it might get you involved. I’m trying to protect you, jackass.”

Vinny groaned, exasperation quite evident just from the tone and length of the noise. But he dropped it. “Okay, then how about you answer one of my other questions?”

Habit had to think back for a moment. What else had Vinny asked? Oh, yeah. “Yeah, I’m fine. Great, actually, all things considered. How are you lot faring?”

“Alex is an insomnia-addled trainwreck, Jeff isn’t much better, Lyra’s resorted to theorizing on what cryptids kidnapped you and why, Evan’s plotting the possible murder of a police officer for the disappearance of all your stuff out of your room-”

“Why is he plotting to murder a police officer for that?” Habit’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Cuz he thinks the guy’s fucking with us.” Vinny’s shrug was obvious even through the phone. “Why don’t you sound surprised?”

“Because all my shit’s here with me. Dunno how it got here, but it’s here, and it sure as hell wasn’t a police officer who brought it anyway. I’d have noticed that.” He changed the subject back, “What about the others?”

“Well, Jessa is still her usual self, Steph’s back in the psych ward because she swears up and down she saw you and Noah sneaking out of your house the night you disappeared and she thinks it was a hallucination, and Lexi isn’t particularly concerned since she didn’t know you - although she’s very careful about how she words things after Lyra almost punched her for saying she didn’t really care.”

“And you?” Habit’s eyebrow lifted inquisitively, even though Vinny couldn’t see it.

“I’m… Well, you know fairly well how I’m doing, I think. I’ve called you twenty-eight times today and a total of 164 times in the past week. I’m worried as hell.” There was an edge to his tone, definitely accusatory.

Habit felt bad again. “Listen, Vin, if I could tell you without the chance of you getting involved, I’d be _all_ over it. But I can’t. So I have to keep my trap shut.” He sighed. “This is going to sound really bad, and I know it, but…” He trailed. Could he really make this request? It would sound heartless and cold, but it was the only way he could make sure he wouldn’t slip up.

“But?” Vinny prompted curiously.

“Don’t call me again, Vin. If I want to talk, I’ll call you. Hell, I’ll update you weekly on how I’m doing if that’ll keep you from calling me, but just… Don’t. It’s too tempting to dump the whole situation on you and bring you in on it. If you get brought in, you’ll probably get hurt, and as much of a huge asshole as I am, I don’t want that. For any of you.” Another sigh. “I’m sorry. Just promise me, okay? I might answer texts, but don’t call.”

Vinny was silent for a long moment before he finally gave a sigh of his own and said, “Okay.”

“Thank you. One day I’ll be able to explain. Just wait for that day. Patiently, if at all possible.”

“I’ll do my best. Anything you want me to tell the others?”

“Just that I’m fine and they can all stop messaging me every ten minutes to ask.”

That made Vinny laugh somewhat. But it was at that very moment that Noah’s voice called from the living room. “Habit, I think you need to see this!”

“I’ve gotta go. I’ll work out the terms of whatever needs to be done to keep you satisfied with my health later. Something needs my attention.”

He hung up before Vinny could agree or disagree to that. He shoved his phone into his pocket and went to the doorway to the living room. “What is it?” He asked, but the moment his eyes found Noah, they were drawn to what the other was staring at.

In the middle of the living room floor, on a huge sheet of plastic, _right where they’d slept the night before_ , there was a body. A _dead_ body, quite clearly. It was naked, allowing Habit to see that it had been a man when it was alive, but now gender hardly mattered. It was a corpse. Sensible people who did not know the identity of a corpse or how the person was killed usually didn’t bother with gender-specific pronouns until an identity was found. Unless you wanted to call it a John Doe.

Habit didn’t. He hated that name. So until the time came where he figured out who and why this corpse was on his and Noah’s living room floor, the corpse would be an ‘it’.

His gut turned at the sight of the body though, and not necessarily in a bad way. He shoved it aside and turned his gaze to Noah, who had lifted his own eyes from the gory scene to look at Habit. There was something in his hand.

Upon realizing where Habit’s eyes were, Noah lifted the thing (which turned out to be a piece of paper), looked at it for a long moment, and then held it out mutely to Habit, face unreadable.

Habit accepted it without question. Maybe it would explain things.

‘ _Dear Habit and Noah,_

_I see you have found my gift. I see, also, that you are unsettled in entirely different ways by it. This is to be expected when two boys so dissimilar receive the same gift, I’m afraid._

_This gift is also a test, not only of the strength of your stomachs and resolve not to involve anyone else, but your life-skills and will to survive as well._

_You must dispose of this “gift” I have given you by yourselves, in some way or another. Only one way, however, is the correct way. You may wonder, of course, what will happen if you pass this test, and what will happen if you fail._

_If you pass, you will soon enough receive the means to avoid and keep out “Ol’ Stick-In-The-Mud.” Whether you want these means or not is none of my concern. If you pass you will have them, regardless of your desire._

_If you fail, however, not only will you lack the reward you receive for passing, but you will also be faced with a plethora of problems, such as police inquiring as to the whereabouts of the body, more frequent visits from your tall friend, and many more. Not all will happen, of course, but you never know what may._

_As I am interested to see what your means to deter your tall friend may manifest themselves as, I do hope you’ll succeed. As such, I shall give you one hint as to how to properly dispose of the body, against orders._

_Your hint is: Habit’s fangs must be put to use.’_

He was wrong. It explained _nothing_ , except that somebody was clearly fucking with them. And somebody who knew about Stick-In-The-Mud, at that. Not to mention, it seemed they were _working_ for Stick-In-The-Mud - who else would they give a hint against the orders of? He somehow doubted there was some kind of eldritch demon sympathizer who would want them to suffer at the hands of it while simultaneously offering them a way to get rid of.

That said, it made him wonder why they were getting this option if it _was_ someone working for Stick-In-The-Mud giving it to them.

Maybe the thing liked to gamble and wanted to take its chances on them fucking this up.

The hint bothered him, too. The first idea that came to mind for his fangs (fake or not) needing to be used was to _eat_ the corpse. Sure, he was fucked up, and admittedly he got off on some weird stuff, but he wasn’t a _cannibal._ He was just a weird kid with violent kinks, okay? God.

Still. The idea of being able to keep away Stick-In-The-Mud just by eating _one_ person wasn’t so bad, was it? After all, who knew what Stick-In-The-Mud was capable of? Chances were it could kill him and Noah both and never bat an eyelash, or torture them for their entire lives. No one could help them, if that was the case… Unless he did this. Unless he… Ate another human being.

That made him feel a little better about the possibility, but he still didn’t like it much.

Still somewhat troubled by this, he sat the note down on the couch and moved to crouch next to the body. It still seemed fairly fresh, maybe only a few hours old. That was disturbing, to say the least, because that meant this poor bastard had likely died right as Habit was waking up this morning. Against his better judgement, he reached out and prodded at the corpse’s face - still soft, and still just a little bit warm. He grabbed the arm closest to him and gently began attempting to move it. It bent without issue.

That meant that rigor mortis hadn’t set in yet or had already faded, but judging by the distinct lack of decomposition to the body and the fading warmth in the skin, it was more likely to be the first. And _that_ meant that this poor bastard couldn’t have been dead more than six hours. Body temperature suggested it had been about two to three hours since death.

Now, Habit was no forensic pathologist, but he knew a lot about death and the forensics behind determining cause and time of death. It was, after all, kind of his thing.

“What are you doing?” Noah asked with a frown, suddenly beside him. “You got a thing for dead bodies now, too?”

Habit shifted a bit and glanced down, just to see if he did. It didn’t seem that way, although the idea of death itself and the wounds on the corpse were certainly doing it for him. “Not for dead bodies, no.” He rolled his eyes and glanced at Noah, “Still a violence fetish. And as for what I’m doing, I was checking to see how long he’s been dead.” He ignored the use of a male pronoun this time because it was too much effort to correct himself when he had no reason to.

“By caressing his face and gently shifting his arm?” Noah sounded disbelieving, but also somewhat hopeful.

“By touching his cheek to gauge body temperature and shifting his arm to see if rigor mortis had set in.” Habit explained with an incredulous look. “Not to feed your ego, but I think the only dead body around here that I’d have a thing for is yours. You get awfully attractive when you’re hurt - I can only imagine if you were dead.”

Noah spluttered for a response, and Habit laughed loudly.

“I’m kidding, Noah.” He paused for a moment, as if considering something, “Well, about the being attracted to your dead body thing, at least. I was serious about the other part.”

“... You think I’m attractive when I’m hurt?” It was Noah’s turn to be incredulous again, but Habit definitely noticed the pink tinge in his cheeks. He attributed it to Noah being flattered or honestly embarrassed by the compliment. Or the reason he could pay the compliment.

“Yeah.” He said nonchalantly. “No homo, I guess?”

“Well you can homo if you want.” Noah grumbled, face even redder now, and quickly changed the subject, “So how long _has_ our…” He cringed as he continued, “... ‘gift’... been dead?”

“I’d say two or three hours. But that’s just my estimate based on what I know about cooling rates and the onset of rigor mortis.”

Noah sighed. “I’m sickened, but curious. What _do_ you know about those things?”

Habit explained it in layman’s terms, and then they were silent for a bit. But a question was eating at him (ha - _eating_ ). “So what do you make of the hint we were left with?”

Part of him really hoped Noah would have a better idea of how to get rid of the body than just eating it. But Noah’s troubled look told him all he needed to know before the boy even opened his mouth. “Well, all I can think of is that it means _eating_ our…” Another cringe, “... ‘Gift’.”

Habit sighed. “I’m prepared to do some pretty fucked up things in this or any other situation, Noah, I really am, but _cannibalism_?”

“Hey, I’m not exactly wild about it either.” Noah protested weakly, though he didn’t seem to be in the mood to argue at all. “But I’m interested in anything that can get us away from that _thing_ , and cannibalism _might_ be our only shot at that.”

“That was exactly my thoughts on it.” Habit admitted. “I want whatever these ‘means to keep it away’ are, but I don’t want to eat somebody to do it. But if I _do_ eat somebody to do it, it’d _probably_ be worth it in the long run because eating one person to stay away from Stick-In-The-Mud is a pretty fair trade as long as we’re being offered up the person on a silver tray.” He glanced down. “Or, rather, a large clear plastic tarp.”

“You’re gonna do it, then?” Noah raised a brow.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Habit’s tongue traced over his fake fangs that he should have, reasonably, taken out the night before, cleaned, and put back in with fresh glue, but hadn’t. They were still in from the day before and shockingly still held firmly in place. It was days like this where he realized that the glue’s packaging wasn’t kidding when it said it’d hold in fake teeth for up to three days with little to no sliding or misplacement.

Still, he didn’t think it was safe to try and eat _human_ with them in, even if he did ignore the rules and eat with them in most of the time when you weren’t supposed to to avoid them coming loose and choking you.

“... Can I at least cook it?” He wondered aloud, poking the guy again.

“I would assume so.” Noah shrugged. “I mean, the note just said you had to use your fangs and we had to dispose of the body.”

“That’s very true.”

He thought it over for a few more minutes. There were plenty of pros and cons here, but it was pretty equally balanced. It all came down to personal preference and morality. But that was what was stopping him - that final decision of, “Do I want to do this?” and “Is it right to do this?”

“Hell with it.” He finally decided, shifting up onto the balls of his feet and standing before rocking back onto his heels. “Morality is overrated, anyways. Help me carry him into the kitchen.”

Noah seemed apprehensive, but nodded, and together they picked up the tarp and shuffled into the kitchen, lying their ‘gift’ on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Habit swallowed. Noah sighed.

“Well, at least it’s not pork.” He supposed. “Cannibalism is technically only against my morals, and not my religion, my morals, and my entire family’s belief system.”

Habit tried to laugh, but it fell flat.


	15. So Apparently I'm Hannibal Now

It was unsettling to be cooking when there was a dead body lying on the kitchen island, despite the fact that death and violence were typically not capable of unsettling Habit. He guessed it probably had something to do with situation - watching a violent movie or cutting into Noah were a _little_ different than having a corpse in the kitchen. And, he’d admit, maybe some of the unsettling feeling was the fact that the body wasn’t just _there_. He was _cutting into_ it and taking off chunks of its flesh.

Okay, so he’d only taken off one chunk of flesh so far, but still. The body wasn’t just _there_. He was kind of cooking it.

Currently the chunk he’d cut off was sizzling in a frying pan with a few different seasonings on it. Noah was stood a few feet away from him, watching in mildly disgusted curiosity. He was as far away as he could be from the body while watching Habit cook. Honestly, Habit thought he was looking a little green, despite his comments when they’d brought the body into the kitchen.

Habit kind of felt a little green himself.

For the time being, he tried to think of the meat in the pan as something he’d normally be cooking. Just treat it like a piece of chicken or beef. If he ignored the body on the island, he could almost imagine that was all this was. He was just cooking lunch.

Soon, too soon, it was done as far as he could tell. So it had to be removed from the pan and plopped rather unceremoniously onto a plate.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” Noah asked, looking even greener than before.

“Seems that way.” Habit said as he prodded at the meat on his plate with a fork. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. The hint was my fangs, after all.”

“Yeah, but… Well, I’m gonna look at it like this - if we run out of other available food options, I don’t doubt we’ll still have plenty of… _This_ … And in that case I need to know if I can stomach it, yeah?”

“That’s a nice way to look at it.” Habit noted. “I was thinking of maybe turning the rest of it into jerky or something to make it more palatable.”

Noah gave a hum and finally moved closer to examine the meat. “It… Kinda looks like lamb.” He said.

“Might make it easier for you to try if you think of it like that.” Habit chuckled weakly, prodding at it again. “Okay, fuck it, here goes nothing.”

Noah watched with that same mildly disgusted curiosity he’d been observing with the whole time as Habit speared a piece of the meat on his fork, tore it away from the rest of the meat, and quickly popped it into his mouth. He was fully prepared to cringe when he bit into it (without his fangs - he’d taken them out because he wasn’t sure he could trust them on the second day), expecting some sort of vile taste. But it tasted _good_. Kinda like good beef.

He blinked, chewing at it contemplatively for a moment before he swallowed. He met Noah’s sickened but curious gaze and said, “It’s actually not that bad.” He waited for Noah to reel back, revolted, but he never did. He just slowly nodded. So Habit speared another piece of meat, but this time he held it out toward Noah. Offering it to him.

Noah’s tense, obviously nervous swallow almost entranced Habit, and he wasn’t sure why. Something about his anxiety just seemed… Satisfying. On whole new levels.

But regardless of that anxiety, which showed _very_ clearly on his face and in his body language, Noah took the fork from him. He stared at it in vague consternation for a moment. He almost looked like he thought _it_ was going to bite _him_ \- which was admittedly a very funny thought. Finally, he pushed it into his mouth, handed the fork back to Habit, and chewed.

He stayed, for the first few seconds, poised to run and spit it out, then seemed to relax a bit right before he swallowed. “Okay, yeah. That wasn’t so bad.”

Habit laughed. “Well, now we’re cannibals. How’s that make you feel?”

“I’m going to Hell anyway,” Noah sighed, shrugging, “So why not?”

That just made Habit laugh harder. Noah didn’t seem to find it nearly as amusing as he did, but he didn’t say anything about it. He just crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. Habit sobered quickly and spent the next few minutes finishing off the meat on his plate. The fact that it was _human_ still made him brace for something disgusting each time he bit down on a new piece.

He didn’t know if it was a good thing or not that by the last few pieces he was no longer unintentionally gagging. He also didn’t mean to eat all of it, but he did offer a few more pieces to Noah, who shook his head. He went ahead and offered him the very last bite, but Noah, again, shook his head.

“I think I’ll stick with real food until it’s absolutely necessary to eat that.” He said simply, and Habit shrugged.

“Fair enough.” He popped the last piece into his mouth. There was no immediate reaction telling him it would be disgusting, no urge to spit it out before he chewed. He bit down, and his only thought was actually about how good it really tasted. “Regardless of whether or not you’re going to eat it, we need to get the rest of the meat off the body before it goes bad.”

Noah gave a weary nod. “I’ll help. Though I’m not sure I want to know how you knew what to do.”

Another shrug from Habit as he sat the plate in the sink. “My dad used to hunt when he had more free time. He took me an Ev with him a few times and since Ev didn’t have much of a stomach for it he taught me how to skin the animals and all that other great stuff.”

“Yeah?” Noah was, suddenly, interested. This was another chance to learn more about Habit - more than he’d learned the night before with their little game. “What did you guys hunt?”

“Rabbits, mostly.” He grabbed the knife he’d used earlier. “Sometimes we’d get a deer or a bird of some kind. Depended on how much time we had to wait around or the type of gun we brought with us.” He glanced at him. “You’d better grab a knife. Or even go find a very large container to stick the skin in.”

Noah’s nose wrinkled as he watched Habit position the knife to take the skin off. “I think I’ll go find a container and then make myself scarce unless you need me. I’m not into violence like you are.”

Habit’s laughter followed him all the way across the house to the large storage closet they’d discovered their first day here. He hunted around for a minute before he found a big plastic tub and lugged it back to the kitchen. He left it within a few feet of Habit, who was already getting quite bloody from the work - he’d made some progress already, piling the skin he’d removed up on the edge of the island.

Noah, despite his reservations, knocked it all into the tub and immediately went to wash his hands at the sink. It only made Habit laugh again, but he didn’t mind so much. There wasn’t a lot that people could do that wouldn’t make him laugh at them.

For now he just ignored that it was even going on and slunk back into the living room. There was no trace, now, of the body having been on the floor - a benefit of the tarp under it, he supposed - so he flopped onto the couch and tried to ignore the memory like he was ignoring Habit. One clearly worked a little better than the other.

He could hear the knife biting through the skin in the other room. It made his stomach turn.

He pointedly turned Netflix back on.

* * *

There wasn’t really much to be done about the remaining bits of the body, unfortunately. Habit was unwilling to eat the skin, and didn’t think he could even _begin_ to eat the bones without serious issues, not to mention the organs weren’t on his list of meals he wanted either... So they were dumped rather ungraciously, along with the bones, into the tub full of skin. They almost didn’t fit, but Noah had grabbed a very big one, so he managed, if only barely.

Now there was only the issue of where to _put_ the tub, and how to dispose of what pieces of the body remained inside of it… And the issue of removing the plastic sheet from where it was precariously set up to avoid blood getting on the floor without entirely defeating the purpose.

In the end he huffed and began carefully folding up the edges so they met in the middle, keeping the blood that had remained in the body until he’d skinned it within the folds and off the floor. He imagined the blood had been left in order to trouble him, or simply as an oversight.

The majority of the meat had been bagged up and shoved into the conveniently empty deep freeze on the other side of kitchen, while some of it - choice cuts from what he could reason - laid in the sink in a strainer, being rinsed of blood so he could lay it on the counter and turn it into man jerky. There would be no shortage of snack-food and meat in this department, though he knew they were likely not to be touched for some time yet. Or at all - both he and Noah would be working to avoid having to break into the stocks, and not just because of the nature of the meat.

He had an idea after he managed to snag all of the tarp up in a way that wouldn’t drip any blood - an idea to get rid of the unfortunate by-products to his work. He just had to see if he had the supplies readily available - and if not, if he could get the other thing he needed in short order.

For now, he just shoved the plastic as far as he could into the trash can and then took the singular bag out to the garbage.

That done, he began searching for the other item he’d need for his disposal plan to work. The kitchen and bathrooms were unhelpful, not containing his necessity, but he hadn’t expected them to. So he kept looking, and found himself disappointed by each room he checked. Even the storage room lacked it.

With some trepidation, he finally decided to check the basement, an area he and Noah had, so far, avoided at all costs. It was… Well, it was creepy, even to him, so that was really saying something. Not to mention, it didn’t have any light sources except the windows, which only let in the light from the forest they could see through them. Not really a lot of help on the lighting front.

This meant he had to rely on his phone’s flashlight app for sight, and left him with only one usable hand unless he found a way to put his phone in his pocket with the flashlight peeking out - not an easy feat for someone whose pockets nearly went to his knees. He figured he’d manage, though. If what he needed was down here, he’d only need one hand to lug it back up the stairs anyway. Or, now that he was thinking about it, he could get Noah to hold the phone and he could drag the tub down here…

Decisions, decisions… Finally, after skulking around the basement for a while, he found _exactly_ what he’d been looking for.

A jug of hydrochloric acid.

It _should_ be enough to dissolve what was left… But if not he’d have to go to the store and buy more. He really wouldn’t want to have to do that - it would eventually get suspicious. Almost as if in response to his thoughts, two more jugs seemed to appear out of nowhere. He tried to ignore the turn of his stomach at that - this was, technically, a good thing. And maybe their ‘examiner’ was helping him out. Instead, he checked the information on the jug curiously.

Five gallons. And he had three, so that was fifteen gallons.

Hell yeah, this would definitely dissolve the body… Over a few days, of course, but it’d do it, eventually. He just had to figure out _where_ , now that he had the _how_.

After another brief look around, he found a drain in the floor near the back of the room. Down here it was, then, but it would _stink_. So he haphazardly clambered up high enough to open each and every one of the windows down there (only after ensuring the smell would be wafting into the forest, not Noah’s neighborhood), then situated the jugs where he’d need them. He was going to have to see about buying a floodlight or something to put down here - he’d seen plenty of electrical outlets, so it was a feasible means of lighting the area.

If they worked, which he was pretty sure they did, but still. He was kind of a pessimist.

He was halfway up the stairs when he thought that, maybe, he ought to separate the components of human into different tubs to make the dissolving thing easier. Not to mention, he’d need room in the tub to add more acid when the first bit stopped being effective… He figured that might take about a day or two, he wasn’t sure. He knew a full human body took about two days to cause the initial effectiveness to wear off, and then you had to add more until the contents were completely liquid.

If asked how he knew that, he’d actually be honest. He’d read about a case in Australia where the husband had done exactly that to his wife’s body, obviously not thinking of her prosthetic teeth when he did so. Once the body had turned completely liquid, the idiot had dumped what was left down a storm drain and all that had been left… Was those prosthetic teeth.

Thankfully, Habit had been careful to examine his body for shit like that. The only non-organic additions had been a pacemaker and a spinal rod, neither of which did he have the expertise to remove and dispose of separately. In theory, though, he wouldn’t need to. They weren’t made of plastic, so (again, in theory), the acid _should_ dissolve them just as well, if not better, than the other particles in the tub.

He’d just have to hope.

So he had Noah help him lug the tote down into the basement, then made him help carry down the two empty ones he decided he’d need. Noah wasn’t happy about it, and he could tell, but he also didn’t really care.

In fact, he kind of wanted to make Noah suffer through a bit more, though he wasn’t sure why. He decided to roll with it, though.

After they set up the floor lamp he’d found in the storage room, he asked Noah to do the honors of disposing of the body. Noah protested, of course. He didn’t want to do it. Habit insisted.

“Listen, Hab, I dunno what kind of sick fetish this is for you, but I’m not indulging it.” He bit out acidly. “You’re the death obsessed would-be murderer here, _not_ me.”

“It’s not a fetish.” Habit rolled his eyes. “I just want it to get done and I need to attend to the jerky. Along with making sure I didn’t get blood anywhere up there.”

Noah huffed, crossing his arms. “And I suppose you expect me to do it with my bare hands and without any protection from the chemical outpouring from the dissolving body that will quite possibly give me emphysema?”

Habit hadn’t considered that. “I’m sure there’s gloves somewhere.” He dismissed, “Maybe a dust mask too. If nothing else you could wear one of my bandanas and hope for the best.”

The look Noah gave him was withering. “I’ll take my chances finding a dust mask. I’m not putting _any_ of your clothes over my face if I can help it. _Especially_ not something you could have jacked off into.” And then he stalked back up the stairs.

Habit had enough time to call, “Gee, who bit you?” after him before the basement door was slammed shut with a loud, annoyed groan from his housemate.

He grinned. Noah had agreed, although he obviously wasn’t happy about that either. Habit somehow felt stronger for it, though he wasn’t sure why or how. He ignored it, for the most part, and headed back upstairs. The jerky wasn’t going to make itself, now was it?

* * *

It was fairly late when Habit finally fell into bed after taking out his contacts. He and Noah had gotten a lot done in terms of disposing of the body today, and despite his reservations, Habit’s dinner had been another cut of human flesh. He managed to almost enjoy the meal while Noah tried to ignore him and pointedly had a salad.

The body disposal seemed to be quite taxing on Noah, mentally moreso than physically. Habit, through his power-fogged mind, thought it was probably because Noah actually had some pretty sound morals, and disposing of a dead body this way was outside of them.

Whatever the case, Habit slipped into his bed and stared at the ceiling.

His leg shook. It was vaguely annoying, sure, but he’d found it was doing it a lot recently right as he got ready to fall asleep. No harm in indulging the urge to do it, he guessed. So he ignored it and allowed himself a yawn, eyes squeezing shut. He knew he’d be laying here for a while before he fell asleep, but that was alright. Gave him time to think about his day…

In the end, though, he only thought about his day for about thirty seconds before his train of thought derailed. Within minutes, he’d lulled himself to sleep, and his dreams followed the course of the thoughts he’d been having. Some were violent. Some of a nature… Quite different.

But he slept, and that was what mattered in the morning.


	16. Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, this will be the last update this gets this month, as I'll be busy with other things next Tuesday (Halloween-y things, and maybe updating my Kingdom Hearts fic). The next update should come on December 5th, and hopefully I'll have had some spare time during November to finish a few chapters of this in advance to make updating a little less hectic.  
> (For those who don't remember, I won't be updating in November because realistically I'll spend the whole month focusing on my NaNoWriMo project and school).  
> Anyway, I'll shut up now. Enjoy!

He wasn’t really thinking about anything when he stumbled out of bed in the morning. Vague memories of his dreams danced about on the edge of his mind. The only thing he could focus on was the need to empty his bladder like he did first thing every morning. Then he’d put in his contacts and fangs and head downstairs to scrounge up some coffee and breakfast.

Or at least, that was the plan.

He caught himself mid-yawn in the bathroom, seeing fangs where there shouldn’t be any in the mirror. At first he figured he hadn’t taken them out the night before, but then remembered he’d taken them out at around mid-day and had never put them back in. His focus shifted slightly to give himself a confused look in the mirror, only for him to start backwards with a yelp. His eyes weren’t supposed to be purple this early in the morning unless... Had he slept with his contacts in?

His first instinct was to check the case, even as it registered to him that his eyes were not the right shade of purple to be his contacts. They weren’t even in the same ball-park as his contacts - they were lavender, and his contacts were closer to a royal purple. But he continued to open the case regardless, somewhat desperate for his contacts to be missing from it.

They were not. They floated in the saline solution ready to be worn, still just as royal purple as they’d been when he took them out. He swallowed hard and looked into the mirror again, checking his teeth, hoping that they were a trick his mind had played.

They weren’t, because he still saw large, menacing fangs where his top set of canines used to be. His bottom set weren’t nearly as prominent, but they _were_ considerably sharper than before. He experimentally pressed the pad of his thumb to one of the top set, and any ideas he’d had about it being a dream disappeared when he felt a distinct pain and his thumb came away from his mouth bloody.

So they were _real_ , and they didn’t just _look_ sharp, then. That was…

He abandoned the train of thought, scooping up his contact container and the small bowl he’d left his fangs soaking in and hurrying downstairs. He knew Noah would be up already - he could smell coffee.

He skidded to a stop in the kitchen, taking note of how Noah was acting before he broached the subject. He seemed calm enough, obviously more awake than usual, so Habit continued on in, setting the two items in his hands aside.

“Noah, check it!” He gave him a grin, close enough Noah should be able to see the difference in his eye color.

Noah blinked at him. “I’ve seen your fangs and contacts before, Hab.” He uttered tiredly, unaffected.

At least until Habit sat the proof down in front of him.

Then his eyes went wide. He blinked a few times, then looked between Habit and the two items on the table. His first verbal response was, much to Habit’s amusement, “What the _fuck_?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Habit shrugged. “But I’m kind of excited, to be honest. This is neat as hell.”

“If you say so.” Noah, personally, didn’t seem so sure.

“Wonder what else might be different,” Habit mused, ignoring the uncomfortable look on Noah’s face despite the strength it seemed to make him feel. He’d always enjoyed making people uncomfortable, so he attributed it to that.

Noah did not reply, merely turning back to his coffee. The heat brought a feeling of comfort and calmness that he hadn’t felt before readying the cup. Of course, warm drinks always did that for him, but it was on a whole different level today. It was usually a rather muted effect when he had as much to stress about as he did at the moment, but today it was working in tandem to keep him relaxed. His thoughts were no longer racing the way they had been when he woke up

That didn’t mean, however, that he wasn’t still thinking about the things that had been plaguing him since the day before. He was just thinking a little more logically about it. In fact, he was thinking in a much more clinical and detached manner, which was unusual for him. He was typically a very emotionally motivated person, and that greatly affected the ways he thought about things.

He wasn’t sure he liked the way he was thinking right now, but it didn’t matter. He knew he wouldn’t be able to control it - he’d already tried.

When he looked up, Habit had disappeared.

He sighed and took a long drink out of his cup. There was nothing else to do for the time being but wait. And, perhaps, check himself in the mirror to see if he had any changes, himself. Surely this couldn’t just be affecting Habit, and surely if it was affecting him as well there would be some physical sign of it.

His unusual thought processes were hardly enough evidence for him. He could just be having an off-day if those were his only changes. Thinking about the possibility of having developed anything like Habit had since yesterday gave him a headache, though, even through the calm he was experiencing. His emotions seemed to be tucked away beneath thick sheets of cold, calculating logic, unable to affect him like they had in the past, or even when Habit had showed off his new features - but that didn’t stop the throbbing in his skull. It merely stopped him from being annoyed about it.

But feeling empty of emotions as he did it was easy to ignore the feeling and urge himself out of the chair. Into the living room, toward the front door. A mirror hung there, and he leaned in close, examining himself with a critical eye.

At first, he saw nothing different. He bared his teeth, tilted his head this way and that, and didn’t find anything different. Not until he looked much closer, focusing in on individual areas of his face rather than giving a brief sweep of the whole structure. His eyes were still brown, as they’d always been, but there seemed to be flakes of gold and red. Maybe a trick of the light? He could believe that, if not for the fangs he, himself, had sprouted.

They weren’t as big or as impressive as Habit’s, but they were there, considerably sharper than before but not necessarily much bigger. Finally another emotion broke through the barrier of detached scientific investigation - displeasure. It bordered on anger, but was not quite that strong, and it felt _right_ , not muted or overstated in the least. He was _displeased_ to have these fangs. It was to be expected, though - it made him more like Habit, and as much as he liked him, he didn’t want that. Even if he was in _love_ with Habit (which he wasn't) he wouldn’t want to be too much like him. He was kind of a huge dick, after all, and violent, possibly even psychotic.

Noah would prefer to stay his regular old self, thank you very much.

He was still frowning at his reflection when he heard Habit’s footsteps approaching again, and he barely had time to turn to face him before he was shoved forcibly against the door. His head impacted hard, maybe a bit harder than the rest of his body other than his shoulders. He saw stars, and the fog of calm deserted him in a hurry. His heart raced, and he’d admit it was just as much from fear as it was from pure surprise.

“Habit, what-”

“This might be cool as fuck but it’s also unnerving as hell.” He said simply.

Noah wished he could say he understood immediately, but he didn’t. He blamed the impact of his head against the door. He was scrambled. But then he finally _did_ get it. Habit was ‘asking’ for ‘permission’ to ground himself. Noah figured he’d do it whether he agreed or not, but he was glad Habit gave him a minute to think about it.

And this was why he didn’t want to be like Habit. If this would be his crutch, he’d really rather just work through all his problems and be miserable until they passed.

“Okay.” He said, and Habit seemed to relax somewhat. “But not here.” That got a raised brow and a head tilt, so he elaborated, “I’d rather not stain up the entryway or chance breaking any of this shit.”

“Fair enough,” Habit straightened out. “My room, then.”

Noah took that as a hint that Habit also wanted some familiarity, not that he would have disagreed even without that hint. So he just nodded and followed him up the stairs, performing every act that Habit told him to.

He took his shirt off, laid down on the bed, and let Habit tie a scarf around his eyes as a blindfold. He didn’t argue when Habit tied his arms above his head and then anchored them to the headboard. All he did was give an amused huff and mutter, “Kinky,” which made Habit laugh.

“Don’t tempt me.”

He took his advice and went back to lying silently and passively while Habit prepared himself to do… Whatever he was going to do. Of course, the longer Habit didn’t do anything, the more Noah began to worry. For all he knew, Habit could be taking pictures of him with his phone and posting them online in order to humiliate him. Or he could be getting ready to kill him off completely. Or…

He put a cap on those thoughts the best he could, and that was punctuated rather curiously (and frighteningly) by the press of a blade to his abdomen. His breath caught in his throat, making Habit laugh again, and his muscles tensed. Habit ignored that and cut into him. It wasn’t deep, or particularly long, but it _hurt_. He hissed, and Habit let out what sounded like a relieved sigh.

Habit didn’t cut deep at all, this time. He kept each of the wounds he inflicted shallow, simple cuts that could heal on their own without need of stitches. The knife bit through the scars leftover from the cuts that honestly should not be healed yet. He noticed that cutting through those made Noah react differently. More violently.

The shallow press of his knife against the rest of Noah’s skin wrought hisses and gasps, made Noah’s fists clench and his legs tensed. But when he experimentally cut through one of the scars again, he got the exact same response he had the first time. Noah’s entire body went rigid for a second, arms jerking hard against their bonds, and he let out a harsh curse.

Habit couldn’t help it.

He kept cutting into the scars where he could, and littered further shallow wounds over Noah’s abdomen until the blood was beginning to pool on his skin - an impressive feat with how incredibly superficial they were. Noah’s breathing was getting ragged by that point, hands now permanently clenched into fists.

And Habit took pity on him. He was so goddamned _sweet_ for letting him do this, he deserved a little mercy. Maybe even a reward - but Habit discarded that thought as soon as it entered his mind. The last thing he needed was to start performing sexual favors for Noah every time this happened as a reward. Not only would that possibly lead to feelings (ew), but it would make _both_ of them reliant on this activity. He wasn’t far gone enough to not realize that that wouldn’t be good.

It was bad enough that he was dependent on it, by himself.

Still, it didn’t stop him from completing the next part of this little ritual with an air of gentleness and maybe a twinge of fondness for his victim. Was this some sort of reverse Stockholm Syndrome? Or was he just attaching himself to Noah because he had no one else to attach to at the moment?

He hoped for the second, because he had enough problems without Stockholm Syndrome on his plate as well. Not that attaching himself to Noah was really something he wanted to deal with, either, but at least _that_ wasn’t a mental illness in and of itself. And it’d be a good thing, in the long run, because the more he liked and trusted Noah the better their whole housemate situation would go.

It would just be hella annoying to deal with in the meantime.

He put the thoughts aside to grab a rag from the bathroom and wet it with warm water. This was, of course, used to wipe away the blood that pooled on Noah’s stomach, and as mentioned before he was gentle as possible. It left Noah shivering, likely from cold air touching warm liquid. But when he toweled it off Noah continued to shiver - he was, after all, still shirtless. Habit would deal with that in a minute.

For now he untied his arms and coaxed him into a sitting position, quickly wiping away the sudden gush of blood from all the wounds and drying it again before giving him some rather haphazard bandages around his middle. Immediately they started to stain red in places where he’d cut deeper, but that was fine. They were only there to keep from staining anything else, to be honest. Noah probably didn’t even need them.

But it would limit how much he would bleed, so it wasn’t a complete waste, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t wash the bandages if they needed them again afterwards.

Finally, he removed the makeshift blindfold from Noah and paused for a moment. Noah was looking right at him, somewhat dazed, but not in any way in the shape he’d been the last two times Habit had taken his aggression out on him. He was still focused on the real world, still paying attention.

Habit wasn’t sure why, but that made him proud. Maybe even happy. So he wrapped an arm around Noah and squeezed. To his shock, Noah returned the gesture before turning his attention to the bandages, which he prodded at absently. Habit didn’t try to stop him. If Noah hurt himself right now it was his own fault.

He didn’t seem to really be in pain at the moment - mostly he seemed curious.

Finally, he voiced what was on his mind, though very softly. “I wonder if your fangs are sharp enough to break skin,” He mused, poking a red spot on the bandages. He pressed pretty hard, Habit could tell, but he didn’t seem to feel it.

“We could find out.” Habit offered, giving him a grin.

Noah gave him an unreadable look before shrugging. “Knock yourself out.”

So Habit moved his face closer and bit down sharply on the junction between Noah’s throat and shoulder. Immediately he tasted blood, coppery and bitter, before the taste seemed to change. He wasn’t sure how to describe it - it tasted less like metal and more like… Like the way a bonfire smelled.

He pulled back, licking his lips, and Noah gave him another unreadable look, this time with a distinct tenseness.

“Did you seriously just drink my blood?” Noah asked after a moment, seemingly ignoring the pain in his shoulder. The area was tense, now, and he was obviously trying not to jostle it, but no signs of discomfort were in his face.

“Kinda? Mostly I just bit you and it got in my mouth.”

Noah hummed and turned his attention to the bitemark, despite not being able to see it very well. He regarded it for a long moment before he lifted his other hand and pointedly poked the wound. His body seemed to jerk slightly, and his hand recoiled immediately. Somewhat delayed, he muttered, “Ow.”

Habit had to laugh at that. In fact, he would have been laughing every time Noah poked his wounds if he would have reacted to them at all. Pain was hilarious unless he was causing it himself, most of the time. But the laugh earned him another of those unreadable expressions, and then a rather gentle poke to the tip of his nose.

“Shut it.” Noah sounded amused despite the expression on his face.

Habit decided to listen just because they currently seemed to have a good thing going and he didn’t really want to fuck it up now that he’d had his fill of violence for the day. It had calmed him considerably, and given him plenty of things to think about. But he was in the state now to think it through calmly, logically, even if his emotions got in his way and made him start to panic again.

For now, he had an entirely different problem to deal with. He pulled away from Noah, licking the taste of his blood off his lips again as he gave this particular problem a vaguely annoyed glare. He knew that it was going to happen, but that didn’t make it any less irritating at the moment.

Noah laughed at him. “It’s your own fault.” He reminded him.

“It is, but still.”

“You wanna de-stress? That’s a sure fire way to do it. I’ll even leave.” Noah gave him a light shove, finally moving his left arm around despite the wound on his neck/shoulder. It didn’t cause the same kind of reaction this time as it had when Noah had poked it, which prompted Habit to cock his head to the side and repeat the action, causing Noah to curse and bat his hand away with his good arm. “You really need more fuel?”

“Nah. Just wondering why it only bothers you when it gets touched and not when you move.”

Noah shrugged. “Dunno, don’t care. But if you don’t mind, I’m gonna…” He made to stand, searching around for his shirt.

“It’s by the door still.” Habit pointed out helpfully.

Noah claimed it with only a minor display of discomfort at bending over before he was gone and Habit was alone with his thoughts.

That was alright.


	17. Exploration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, hello everybody! Welcome back to Trial and Error. As you probably noticed, I changed the update schedule back to only Tuesdays, but I should be able to change it back to twice a week soon enough. I kind of have to have chapters written in order to post them, you know, and I barely finished this one in time because my novel kicked my ass last month.  
> Anyways. Enjoy!

Within about six hours, Noah’s wounds closed most of the way and he discarded the bandages into the hamper. The bitemark bruised. Deeply. It continued to leak trace amounts of blood into his shirt.

If it hadn’t been black, he’d have minded that a lot more.

He seated himself on the couch, heeding the voice in his head telling him to ‘sit with his legs in two different time zones’ and ‘act like he owned the place’. He wasn’t sure who actually _did_ own the place, but he thought it fair to assume that that would be himself and Habit, at least for the time being.

Eventually he zoned out, and he only came back to reality when Habit plopped onto the couch next to him.

“Hey.” Habit said after a long moment.

“Hey,” Noah responded, absentmindedly running his fingers over the bitemark on his… Neck? Shoulder?

Eh, either way.

“You good?” Habit glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

Noah shrugged. “Been worse, I guess. What’s got you so concerned about me all of a sudden?”

That made Habit snort. “If we’re gonna live together I can’t very well be _completely_ inconsiderate of your feelings and well-being all the time, can I?”

“Knowing you?” Noah quirked a brow, “You could, but I guess it’s nice knowing you apparently don’t want to.”

Habit just rolled his eyes and treated him to a surprisingly gentle punch in the shoulder. Noah returned the gesture. Habit laughed and seemed to relax - Noah hadn’t noticed how tense he was before. Noah also hadn’t realized how numb _he’d_ been before. It had sort of stopped bothering him that he didn’t feel a whole lot of emotion, which in and of itself probably should have been worrying.

Now, he felt some semblance of happiness, or maybe just contentment, creeping into his bones. Without thinking about it, he shifted into a more comfortable position and let his head fall onto Habit’s shoulder. Habit didn’t question it or comment on it, but he also didn’t physically respond to it. That was fine. Noah wasn’t expecting him to, and unless they were falling asleep or watching something (which they obviously weren’t) he didn’t really expect to get any form of physical affection.

It was funny - before, he’d been trying his hardest not to let on to Habit that he had a crush, and today he suddenly just didn’t care? He guessed he would just take what he could get. Accept what affection he was offered and try to be content with it. It wasn’t healthy, but what part of this shitstorm _was_? He might as well just roll with whatever he was doing.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, absently poking and prodding and rubbing at the bitemark. It stung and twinged with pain with each touch, but he didn’t mind. In fact, it grounded him somewhat.

Great, he was turning into Habit.

Oh well, it was bound to happen eventually. He just hoped it would only affect him in terms of pain grounding him, not pain turning him on - Lord knew he didn’t need that. He was perverse enough as it was. He didn’t need any more sins to repent for when he finally died.

“Don’t think too hard, handsome, you might hurt your brain.”

Habit’s voice not only shook him from his thoughts, but also turned his cheeks bright red and gave him the odd feeling of being both mildly angry and incredibly embarrassed. He didn’t have time to gather a response, however, before Habit started talking again.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, anyway?”

“The fact that if I adopt any more of your unhealthy coping mechanisms I’m _definitely_ going to go to Hell and no amount of repenting will keep me from it.”

“As much as I’m not religious,” Habit said after a moment, “I have to say I think your dedication to yours is actually kinda cool.” A pause, “Especially since you’re so dedicated without ever trying to push it on anybody else, which is a major reason I’m not religious.”

“Because you’d push it on someone else?” Noah joked drily.

Habit punched him, then finally wrapped his arm around him. “Because I got tired of it being pushed on me. Did I ever tell you that Ev and I were Catholic until our eighth birthday? Cuz we were. Our parents were like _mega_ Catholic and I went a lil crazy that day and told them I was tired of all of it and didn’t want to go to church anymore. Ev backed me up, and eventually we all stopped going.” He laughed. “I accidentally started a religious revolution in the house just because I didn’t want to go to church anymore.”

“I’m shocked that they didn’t like... Try to have you exorcised or something.” Noah admitted with a laugh of his own.

“I am too - I expected them to at least tell me to apologize and suck it up, but they both just kinda nodded and then come the next Sunday they told me I didn’t have to go if I didn’t want to.”

“And eventually you all stopped going.” Noah repeated in a mumble with a slight nod.

Habit gave a hum of agreement.

If he wasn’t paying such acute attention to Habit’s arm around his shoulders, he might have forgotten they were basically cuddling right now. But he was paying a _lot_ of attention to it, basking in the warmth where he was being touched. He seemed to be taking a lot of solace in warmth today, he noticed. He almost wondered if it was a side effect of whatever had given them their new looks.

He guessed it didn’t matter.

* * *

A week later, Noah found himself cautiously stepping down into the storage room of the house, wondering yet again what they hoped to accomplish by doing this. And wondering why the storage room had to be a good six inches down from the rest of the house. And wondering if he’d remembered to lock his bedroom door.

His brain was all over the place and he hated it.

But speaking of being all over the place… While he was like that _mentally,_ Habit was currently that way _physically_. He had been flitting around the house all day and most of yesterday. And that answered the first question - the question of why they were doing this.

They were doing this because Habit was stir crazy as hell and Noah was too paranoid to let him run around on his own.

The initial plan was to wander the town, maybe go down to the boardwalk, and just hang out a little bit. Make it look like they were just two bros chilling like nothing was wrong. But Noah’s paranoia had inevitably shot that idea down because of his worry that maybe Habit’s story had made it down here and someone would recognize him.

To his surprise, Habit didn’t ridicule him for that. He took it seriously.

He teased at him _afterwards_ , of course, but that was to be expected from Habit. He’d take your concerns seriously and then when it was no longer an immediate issue he’d tear into you for it - if he liked you, that was. He only gave you any kind of break if he liked you.

Knowing that and having experienced it kind of warmed Noah’s heart, which did funny things to his head.

Their next plan had been to see if they could explore the woods outside their house. Sure, the windows opened up into it and there was a chance they could just hop out of one and wander around, but Noah wasn’t exactly the greatest at climbing back into a window if there wasn’t anything for him to grab, and since he couldn’t see the outside of the house he didn’t know if there would be anything. And with the fact that the ground was a good four feet down from the window sills…

Yeah. He’d rather not chance it. Especially since he didn’t know if the front door would let him back into the house or if it would dump him in his parents house.

That had led to them checking every door in the house to see if it would lead outside, because they hadn’t really thought to do that before. That search turned up nothing, however, as there weren’t any side doors and the front door still lead out onto Noah’s parents’ front step in Florida.

And then, while shifting stuff around for an entirely unrelated reason that Noah couldn’t quite remember, he’d found a door at the back of the storage room. Opening it had shown… The forest. So he’d called out to Habit, and now they were preparing to go out and explore despite the fact that Habit appeared to be in some kind of pain, or at least deeply uncomfortable.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Noah raised a brow.

Habit glared at him. “Would I be doing it if I wasn’t?”

Noah, wisely, chose to keep his mouth shut about that. Instead of remarking on it he just shrugged and, “After you, then.”

Habit took the invitation almost immediately, turning the knob on the door and stepping out into the open air. Noah followed behind him.

While Habit seemed relieved to be outside, Noah felt nothing but dread flooding every nerve in his body. Something about this forest seemed sinister. Something seemed _wrong_. All of a sudden the stories his grandpa had told him came rushing back, and his whole body shivered, even as he finally made the connection between the stories and the ‘man’ he’d been seeing.

Habit gave him a grin. “Are _you_ sure you’re up for this?”

Noah gave him a scowl and flipped him off, wandering a little further out. “Just doesn’t feel right.” He grumbled, “Let’s get this over with, yeah?”

“Sure.” Habit cackled.

He kept an arm wrapped around his middle as he advanced toward the trees, taking note of the large clearing around the house (which, from the outside, appeared to be more of a mansion). Maybe they hadn’t seen all the house had to offer just yet…

The idea excited him despite the pain in his stomach. He was doing his best to ignore that, actually, because he had no idea what was wrong and he really didn’t feel like playing guessing games. He just wanted to be outside and get some fresh air. And maybe torment Noah a bit more, because the fear radiating off of him made him feel better. _So_ much better. As did exhibiting any form of power over him, he’d found.

“So what’s got you so on edge?” Habit teased, throwing an arm around Noah’s shoulders.

Noah scowled at him again, then directed his eyes straight ahead, apparently ignoring him. Well, he couldn’t have _that…_

He removed his arm from Noah’s shoulder, then grabbed him, forcing him to turn and face him, and slammed him up against a nearby tree. He could _feel_ the way that Noah’s heart rate spiked immediately. He could feel the anxiety. For a moment his stomach stopped aching quite so badly. It felt _good_ to be in control of how Noah responded to him.

He leaned in close to Noah, nose to nose with him, and grinned. “I asked you a question.” He hissed.

“Don’t make me kiss you.” Was Noah’s reply, voice shockingly steady for someone who was radiating fear from his every pore. He pressed his hands to Habit’s shoulders and shoved. Hard.

Habit landed on his ass, and Noah started laughing. Honestly, he’d have been pretty fucking angry if he wasn’t so… Strangely proud of the guy.

His grin didn’t drop, and in fact only grew because a moment later Noah offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. The pain in his stomach returned with a vengeance, however, which made him grimace. That sucked.

“You gonna answer me?” He asked, much more subdued.

“Depends.” Noah shrugged, pausing to brush some bark off of the back of his shirt.

“On what?” Habit frowned.

“Whether I feel like it or not.” Noah stuck his tongue out.

Habit groaned, but admitted that he’d probably set himself up for that. And, after all, it was probably his fault even if he hadn’t walked right into it - he’d never known Noah to be so sassy before they started hanging out… If what they did could really be qualified as ‘hanging out’.

He wasn’t sure it could, but what did he know?

He grabbed Noah again, pushing him up against a different tree. He was calmer this time. Careful and deliberate. Noah’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t complain. He allowed it to happen.

He leaned in close again, hands still on Noah’s shoulders. “There’s no need to be like that.” He said, and he almost made himself shiver with the tone. He _definitely_ made Noah shiver… And not in fear, either. That was funny, but he wouldn’t bring that up right now. Instead, he moved one hand to Noah’s throat, grasping it loosely for a moment before giving a sudden squeeze. Noah’s face turned bright red from embarrassment almost immediately as a soft keen broke free from his throat. Habit grinned. “Answer me, yeah?”

The pain in his stomach faded again, proving whatever hypothesis he’d had concerning fear and control having an effect on it. Regardless of that, though… He was completely in control at the moment - Noah wasn’t challenging him at all. In fact, Noah would probably encourage him to continue if he wasn’t such a blushing virgin.

“Okay.” Noah agreed when he finally released his throat, breathless.

“Good boy.” Habit gave another short, hard squeeze, grin growing when Noah practically whimpered. “So?” He prompted.

“Feels wrong.” Noah muttered, closing his eyes as he obviously attempted to compose himself. “Like there’s something _there,_ y’know? And of course there’s always the threat of,” He paused, snorting, “Ol’ Stick-in-the-Mud waiting for us somewhere out here.”

“Honestly I’m kind of surprised you’re more scared of him than you are of me.” Habit noted, stepping back.

“I never said that.” Was Noah’s reply.

Before Habit could come up with a response to that, Noah had pushed away from the tree, given his neck a tentative rub, then set off into the trees. Habit ended up just laughing and following close behind him. The pain didn’t return, and he guessed it was probably because he was still technically in control of the situation, and Noah was getting scared again, more and more with each step into the undergrowth.

They kept up a steady pace for a while, going in a straight line so as to avoid getting lost. Habit stayed right behind Noah, partially to motivate him into continuing, partially so he wouldn’t lose him. Somewhere along the line he stopped paying a whole lot of attention to where they were going, letting Noah have control of that. The pain in his stomach returned somewhat.

He ignored it.

At least until he ran right into Noah’s back because the guy skidded to a stop in front of him.

“Hey-”

“Look.” Noah cut him off and sort of stepped out of his way, gesturing forwards.

Habit followed the gesture and blinked. In front of them was a rather large fire that was quickly engulfing the trees next to it. Usually Habit would have grinned immediately, got excited about the fire, but… Well, there was the issue of it spreading and maybe getting the house. He didn’t want that.

“We should probably put that out.” He observed.

“No shit.” Noah rolled his eyes. “But how exactly do you plan on doing that, eh?”

“I’d suggest just throwing you in it but it’d probably just burn faster.” Habit commented drily.

Noah stuck his tongue out at him. Habit made to shove him toward the fire, prompting a rather vicious flinch from the other along with a spike of fear. He only smug about it for about two seconds before Noah somehow managed to trip himself with the exactly one step he took away from Habit. Habit didn’t really have time to think about the probability of that happening - though he definitely would have if he did -, and his first instinct was to grab Noah by the arm and yank him away from the fire he was about to fall ass-first into.

He caught the half-bewildered, half-incredulous look Noah gave him, and he ignored it to the best of his ability.

He did not, however, ignore the way the pain in his stomach suddenly seemed to intensify… Though he certainly would have if he could. He hated being in pain when it wasn’t intentional. He especially hated it when he found it was bad enough to make him want to double over and made his eyes sting with unshed tears.

He gave a groan, and before he really had any control of what was happening he found himself face first in the dirt.

When he pulled himself back up at least to his knees, Noah was staring at him with a mix of confusion and something that oddly resembled suspicion. He didn’t say anything, and Habit almost asked him what he was staring at. _Almost._ Because when he turned away in preparation for being snippy, he saw that the fire had gone out.

_All of it_ had gone out. Every single branch and leaf was now free of flames.

A lot of the area before him was black and charred, now - the trees that had been touched, especially. But the point was that they weren’t on fire anymore, and he was really, _really_ confused. He hadn’t even _done_ anything, so how…? And why?

He shook his head and looked at Noah again.

The look had disappeared from his face, but now he just looked _too_ blank. He still didn’t say anything. He just shrugged and turned around to head back to the house. Habit made to follow, pushing himself up onto his feet… Only for his legs to give out on him at the same moment his stomach ache flared again.

He grunted and managed to catch himself, this time, but he didn’t manage to get back up. He was stuck on his hands and knees.

It felt so fucking degrading.

He realized very keenly that he was no longer in control of the situation at _all,_ and that wasn’t doing anything to help him. He was actually pretty content to just drop himself into the dirt for all the humiliation he was already facing. Before he could, though, Noah gripped him by the bicep and lifted him a little more effortlessly than Habit would have expected.

“C’mon, drama queen. Let’s get you home.”

Habit didn’t bother trying to explain himself, nor did he try to fight the fact that the image of their house actually came to mind at the use of the word, “home.” He guessed these were just the facts of his life now.

“So what the fuck’s wrong with you, huh?” Noah asked when they finally got back into the house proper.

“I honestly have no clue.” Habit replied, curling up on the couch. His stomach felt somewhat better now, the pain still intense but on a level he could handle easier. “It feels kinda like I’m hungry but like… On ridiculous levels. Like I haven’t eaten in a week. And you and I both know that I ate like three plates of eggs this morning, so…”

Noah considered that. “Okay. How long has it been going on?”

“Since a couple days ago.” Habit curled a little tighter at a brief resurgence of the more intense pain, hissing. When it died back down to a manageable level he said, “And I’ve tried everything. The only thing I can think of is that I’m having some sort of man-period but for one I’m not bleeding and for two I don’t think cramps feel like hunger pains.”

“Yeah, no.” Noah’s lips quirked up into an amused smile for a second before turning contemplative. “Okay, I have an idea. Sit tight, yeah?”

Habit made a noise of agreement, and Noah disappeared into the kitchen for a moment or two. Finally, he returned with a ziplock bag. After a moment Habit recognized it as the jerky he’d made. His stomach rolled in a vaguely unsettled way, but at the same time his mouth watered.

His first thought in reply to that was, _You have_ **_got_ ** _to be_ **_shitting_ ** _me._

“Call me crazy, but you’ll never know unless you try.” Noah shrugged, tossing the bag at him.

“You’re right,” Habit conceded, “But that doesn’t mean I want to.”

“I’m content to just let you be in pain if you’re going to be difficult,” Noah reminded him, and Habit spared another thought to how much he was starting to influence him.

He sighed, grumbled something to the effect of Noah needing to stop acting like him, and removed a piece of jerky from the bag. He bit a chunk out of it, finding that his fangs ripped through it much easier than his original teeth had. They also made quick work of the tough meat.

He swallowed it down without much work, then decided he might as well finish off the piece he had in hand.

The effect of it wasn’t immediate, but within a few minutes the ache in his stomach faded somewhat, then disappeared entirely less than half an hour later. He had to hand it to Noah - he’d have never thought of that himself.

He sat up straighter, stretching. “Well.”

“I take it that worked, then?” Noah quirked a brow. He didn’t seem surprised, nor did he seem particularly impressed.

“Guess so. Nice job.”

He hummed and turned back to the TV, which he’d been staring at fairly mindlessly ever since he’d handed off the jerky to Habit. Habit wasn’t sure what show Noah had put on, but it seemed to have his interest, so he attempted to zone into it too.

“You know, just because I helped you doesn’t mean that I’m happy with you right now.” Noah threw out casually. “It’s just no fun punishing you for being a dick if you can’t defend yourself.”

Habit wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

So he didn’t. He just tried to get more comfortable. And Noah didn’t seem to expect him to respond, either. They just sat quietly together, watching some show that Habit still couldn’t really grasp the nature of. It didn’t make any sense, but he guessed it was probably one of those that you needed to watch from the beginning.

He sighed.


	18. Adulthood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, big time skip here, maybe some plot holes. I'm sorry about that. The story just wants to write itself, okay? I'm just along for the ride most of the time.  
> Anyway. Things happen, Noah is Stressed and Gay™, and Habit isn't making anything easy.

If it weren’t for Facebook and his computer and phone in general, Noah would have had no idea how long he and Habit had been hiding out in their little house in the woods. “Little” being probably not the right word to describe it, but Noah was tired. He didn’t really care if it was correct or made sense.

The point was, time seemed to flow differently wherever they were. It didn’t _actually_ flow any differently, from what he could see, but it _felt_ like it did. It felt _off._ And he didn’t feel like they’d been living together nearly as long as they had, but at the same time it felt like they’d been living together so much _longer_ than they had. Everything was wonky.

Noah had a shit sense of time before this, but it was even worse now.

If asked how long he thought they’d been living together, he’d give a rough estimate of about a couple weeks. And that was just in the house - he’d say a month or so since they ran away.

He would, of course, turn out to be wrong, and he only knew this because his phone had just received a Facebook notification telling him that Habit’s birthday was today. Sure, the date on the phone and his computer should have told him enough, but he very rarely paid any attention to that.

He blinked at the notification, then finally checked the date on his phone for confirmation. He blinked again. Had it really been five and a half months already? He cast a glance at Habit, who sat across the room from him chewing at a piece of jerky thoughtfully. He didn’t seem to realize or care what day it was, if his current behavior was anything to go by.

Instead of really getting into a discussion about it, Noah cleared his throat, said, “Happy birthday, jackass,” and returned his attention to his phone.

“That time already?” Habit asked, and he sounded so genuinely bewildered that Noah shot a glance at him out of the corner of his eye, just to check.

Indeed, Habit was scrambling to grab his phone and check the date. It almost made Noah laugh, but he chose to keep his trap shut. His abdomen still ached from the last time something had gotten on Habit’s bad side and he wasn’t eager to go reopening any wounds. Everything was pretty okay between them right now, and pretty okay otherwise, too.

Well, except for the fact that it was Habit’s birthday and that meant Noah hadn’t gone to school this year.

“Well what do you fucking know.” Habit gave a bewildered, but not entirely displeased, huff. “It really _is_ November already.”

“Would I lie?”

Habit gave him a look that quite clearly implied that he thought the answer to that was “yes,” but didn’t actually say anything. He just regarded him with that look for a moment before looking back at his phone thoughtfully. Finally he opened his mouth, clearly prepared to say something, but then closed it again. He repeated that action once or twice.

“You know,” He finally managed to say, “I’m legally an adult now.”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“If I told everybody I was alive, they couldn’t technically come after me now… I’m an adult.” He seemed fascinated with the idea. Noah listened quietly, not sure if he was done yet or not. “And I mean I do still feel kinda bad for letting some of them think I was dead all this time… We should check the news before I do anything.”

“You could just Google yourself.” Noah suggested.

“Good point.”

It took Noah a second to realize that that was exactly what Habit was doing. He resisted the urge to facepalm because, after all, he had been the one who suggested it. It was just… Funny that Habit would listen to him so easily nowadays. Once upon a time he’d taken everything Noah said with more than just a pinch of salt unless he already knew it to be true.

He took most of it with like. A _cup_ of salt. Or a whole _bucket,_ sometimes.

And now he just accepted pretty much anything Noah threw at him. He guessed that was some kind of blessing, but he really couldn’t remember when the change had been made. Had it been a gradual thing? He didn’t think so. In fact, he was fairly sure it had been an out of the blue 180. He just wished he could remember when it happened.

Come to think of it, though, he was pretty sure it had happened right after that fateful heart to heart in the woods his first day in New Jersey.

He shook his head. Despite having nothing better to do, he didn’t think right now was the time to take a trip down memory lane, especially with his skewed sense of time.

“We need to invest in a calendar.” He finally noted, “And a few wall clocks.”

Habit nodded mutely in agreement, focused heavily on whatever he had found on his phone. Without thinking much about what he was doing, Noah got up and plopped down next to him on the other couch. Habit didn’t respond other than to angle his phone so Noah could see it a little easier from where he’d instinctively laid his head on the other’s shoulder. A couple months ago he’d have been surprised Habit didn’t punch him for it. Now he was used to Habit not giving a shit if Noah laid all over him.

He directed his attention to the article on Habit’s phone.

_‘... Jennings disappeared in late June this year, leaving no trace as to where he’d gone and with whom. Very soon the investigation turned up evidence that Habit may not have simply disappeared, as various items in his home suggested a long history of self-harm. This note is all the possible evidence he left investigators to deal with, otherwise.’_ Noah wasn’t entirely surprised to find the note Habit had left pictured in the middle of the page. He scanned it quickly so that Habit could move on to the rest of the article, then swatted him once he’d finished. Habit snorted at him.

_‘His car was gone, and by the end of the first week investigators had begun to investigate the possibility he may have killed himself rather than simply run off. The current verdict on the investigation is that he is either dead or in hiding, but authorities lean more toward the former.’_ Ouch. That was kind of rude of them, wasn’t it?

_‘When asked, the Jennings family claimed they had no knowledge of his current whereabouts. Close friends of the family said the same, but the majority of his personal friends and his brother seemed to be acting secretive about something.’_ Whoa, Vinny hadn’t actually told anybody but Habit’s friends that he was alive? Noah had a new respect for Vinny’s ability to keep his mouth shut. _‘So far, there has been no investigation into what the teenagers may be hiding. Police believe that, if any of them knew where he was and whether or not he was alive, they would have said something by now.’_ Well, yeah. Duh. That was part of why Habit hadn’t told anybody where he was, wasn’t it? And Vinny evidently got the idea that telling them Habit was alive would lead to them being able to find Habit, and that Habit didn’t want that.

_‘The case is no longer being investigated quite as zealously, but it is still open. If you have any information about where Habit Jennings may be, please contact authorities in…’_

He looked up to Habit, finally. Habit seemed to be thinking very hard about something, chewing on the inside of his cheek while he did so. After a moment, he met Noah’s eyes and lifted his brows. He released the inside of his cheek, letting out a puff of air.

“Well.” He said, “How about I let them know just how alive I am, hm?”

“Up to you.” Noah shrugged, making to pull away before he got too comfortable.

Habit stopped him by wrapping an arm around him and pulling him back. He did it surprisingly gently, too. Noah tried to ignore it. “Hey, don’t go anywhere just yet. I wanna talk about this with ya.”

“Okay.” Noah surrendered, as usual, far too easily. He’d never just give up like that to anyone else, and he hated the implications behind that.

Habit gave him a grin in reply to his surrender, and for a moment Noah didn’t regret it so much. Then Habit launched into a rather one-sided conversation on what he should say and who he should tell. Noah interjected here and there to make suggestions, but otherwise kept quiet. He wasn’t sure if Habit appreciated it or if it annoyed him.

Eventually Habit decided he’d go active on Facebook by turning on chat and just let people start drawing conclusions. While that was going on, he’d be writing a public post telling everyone he was alive and well. Noah, meanwhile, was just going to sit by and watch, because it was sure to be one hell of a shitshow in the end.

“Could you go get my laptop?” Habit asked him, “I need to put up the jerky.”

Noah knew that it was just an excuse for Habit not to have to go up the stairs, but he agreed anyway. Totally not because Habit grinned at him and it made his heart skip a beat. No way. He was _definitely not_ completely gay for his room mate. The very thought was preposterous.

Okay, so maybe he was a little gay for Habit. Big deal.

He retrieved the laptop from Habit’s bed, spared a glance around to see if Habit had changed anything up since the last time he’d come in a few weeks ago, and shuddered at the sight of the lengths of rope Habit had found in their storage room. He didn’t know what Habit wanted them for, nor did he really _want_ to. He shook himself and picked his way back out of the room and down the stairs.

“Here.” He said as he offered it to the other teen.

Habit hummed and accepted it, opening it without delay. Noah was sorely tempted to avert his gaze until he knew Habit had Facebook loaded, but the idea didn’t occur to him in time for him to avert his gaze. To his relief, Habit didn’t have any freaky porn open, just a Google document. He didn’t manage to see whatever Habit may have been writing about, but he wasn’t too concerned with it.

Some things were private.

He seated himself next to Habit and watched quietly as he clicked into his chat settings and, with clear hesitation, clicked “Turn on Chat.”

Habit gave him a borderline nervous look before moving his mouse to the top of the page and clicking on one of his extensions (Facebook Unseen) and disabling it. He then tapped on the messages feature, and both of them cringed at the sight of all the new messages that he hadn’t yet read. Habit swallowed and clicked “See All In Messenger.”

He went through the motions of reading all of the messages, and Noah had the presence of mind to avert his eyes for that… At least for the first minute or so, and then boredom and curiosity won out and he looked back at the screen. Habit was still scrolling through all the messages Jeff had sent him, which was concerning since Jeff usually didn’t message a whole lot or very often, and he could only imagine how many messages Habit had waiting from the people who messaged on a daily basis.

His phone went off right about the time Habit finally moved on to the messages from Evan.

He jumped slightly, not expecting it seeing as, if it really _was_ November, the last time he’d gotten a phone call was three months ago. He shook the momentary fright away and got up, pulling the phone out of his pocket and answering it without really looking to see who it was. As long as it wasn’t just a string of numbers, he’d answer, because people in his contact list were obviously trustworthy.

He spared a very brief thought to the fact that all of the utilities, his phone included, hadn’t been paid since before this ordeal started. That was weird. But he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth - he was glad that nothing needed paid.

“Hello?” He asked, pacing toward the kitchen for privacy.

“Noah.” He had to admit that Alex’s voice wasn’t the one that he expected. Maybe Jeff or Evan, but not Alex. Alex hadn’t even really texted him since he’d gotten his number. “I need to talk to you.”

“I gathered that.” He said, instead of making a fool of himself and gaping like a fish at the unexpected phone call. He hauled himself up onto the tabletop. “What’s up, buddy?”

“You uh… You remember that _thing...”_ He cut himself off, took a deep breath, and tried again, “I mean, you remember the nightmares I was having, right?”

“Right. About the weird thing with the big claws?”

“Yeah.” There was a brief silence before he said, “It’s about that.”

“Okay.” Noah wasn’t sure he liked where this was going, since there wasn’t a whole lot he could do to help Alex stop having nightmares. But maybe Alex just wanted to talk about it? He and Habit were the only people who knew, so he guessed that would make sense. “They getting worse or something?”

“Not exactly?” Alex shifted around, if the rustling was anything to go by, “They’re still just as bad as ever, but I uh… Um. I didn’t actually tell you guys everything at the bonfire. And you’re probably gonna think I’m crazy when I do but _dammit_ I need to tell somebody. And I need… I need your help. Not specifically with the nightmares but with some shit surrounding it.”

Alex’s dual use of swears struck Noah as odd and highly concerning. Alex usually didn’t curse if he could help it. Noah felt his stomach sink.

“I’m not going to think you’re crazy,” Noah said, instead of anything else he was thinking.

“You can’t promise that.” Alex’s tone was somehow even more distressed than it had been before. Noah didn’t know that was possible. “Just… Just shut up and listen, okay?”

Noah blinked owlishly. Alex had actually sounded vaguely irritated, and shockingly commanding, too. In the end he didn’t say anything in reply, and Alex sighed in an almost relieved way.

“Okay. Long story short… These nightmares? The thing in the nightmares? They’re obviously pretty fucked up already, with what I told you back in June. But it gets _worse,_ Noah. Because the shit that thing does to me in the dreams? The part where it slashes at me and I throw my arms up to protect myself?” There was a brief silence, punctuated by a shaky breath. “That _really_ happens, Noah. Every goddamn time I wake up bleeding with these huge gashes in my arms. And I _know_ I’m not doing it to myself! _It got Jeff once!_ And I am so fucking scared because I can’t stop it. I- I stay up as long as I can and I t-try not to fall asleep at all, ever, but obviously that doesn’t work and it just keeps happening and I need _help_.”

Alex stopped abruptly after that, and Noah heard a distinct sob from his end of the phone. He still didn’t say anything, though, trying to process what he’d heard. Alex was right - it sounded crazy, but… Well. Noah wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t believe him. He’d seen the way some of this shit had affected Habit. He’d seen how it had affected _him._

“That… That thing. It told me that if I could find Habit, I could find the way to get rid of it. But I have no idea where he is and aside from Evan you’re the last person to have seen him and it may or may not have implied that you know where he is so…” A deep breath. “Noah, _please,_ if you know where he is, tell me. Please. _Please.”_

Noah considered it for a second before sighing. “You can’t tell anyone else.” He said firmly.

“I won’t.” His voice lowered considerably. “Jeff wants me to bring him with me, but I can’t do that. I’m not dragging him into this any further than he already is. I’m not talking about this with _anybody.”_

Noah gave a hum. “Alright. Fine.” He said, resigned. “He’s with me. In Florida.” Hesitation. “Er. Kind of. It’s hard to explain.”

“I _knew_ he was with you.” Alex muttered under his breath, triumphant. “Okay. I uh… I’m gonna come down there so like… Don’t freak out when I show up on your doorstep?”

“You don’t even know where I live.” Noah protested.

“I’ve got your address and I’ve seen pictures of your house.” Alex replied somewhat flippantly. “I can work it out from there.”

“... You’ve really thought this out.”

“I’ve been thinking about it since June, Noah.” Alex’s tone was suddenly tired and suffering in nature, “I’ve done very little else _except_ think about it. I’ve checked every available resource and plotted at least sixteen different routes to get to your house. I’ve calculated how long it would take me to walk. I’ve been hoarding provisions in my closet. I stole Jeff’s sleeping bag and one of the tents out of the shed.” He sighed, “I need to end this. I have to get this thing to stop, one way or another. And if I have to fucking walk to Florida to do it, then goddammit, I’m going to fucking do it.”

Again, the curses caught Noah’s attention and clearly conveyed the conviction behind Alex’s words. There was no way that he was going to stop Alex, and it was unlikely that anything else would either. He was determined and convinced this was the only way. Noah could relate to that, and he certainly understood.

“Don’t get yourself hurt.” Was what Noah said instead of voicing his thoughts. “We can’t help you if you can’t make it here because you’re hurt.”

“No promises.” Alex’s voice was unsettlingly dark.

And then the line went dead.

Noah stared at his phone for a couple of minutes before he sighed and headed back to the living room. “Hey. You don’t have to leave the part where we’re living together out of your post if you don’t want to, okay? Just… Be vague on where we are.”

“I can do vague.” Habit informed him as he stared quietly at the laptop screen. He seemed to be re-reading his post, probably for spelling errors. “You sure you want people to know you’re with me?”

“I don’t care. Also, when you’re done with that, there’s something we need to talk about.”

Habit shot him a confused, if somewhat concerned, look, eyebrow raised.

“Just get your post out of the way. This needs your full attention.”

Habit dropped the eyebrow and instead furrowed them. Finally, he gave a hesitant nod. “Okay.”

* * *

Almost as soon as Habit pressed “Post” on Facebook, the responses came pouring in. The first few were prior to anybody having seen the post - it was just Jeff, Evan, and Lyra taking note of his current online status and sending him messages riddled with question marks. And exclamation points.

By the time the post had been up for half an hour, it had sixteen comments. A few of them were various renditions of “dude where are you????” Other ones were people telling him he was a huge dick for letting everyone think he was dead for so long. Habit promptly replied to that by saying that he hadn’t exactly been following the case and didn’t realize that was the way suspicions went.

_[one minute ago] Jeff Koval Jr.: You didn’t stop to think that the note you left might lead all of us in that direction????_

_[seconds ago] HABIT Jennings: I figured you all knew me well enough to know that “something stupid” meant getting stoned out of my head and ending up in a ditch somewhere, not killing myself._

_[seconds ago] Jeff Koval Jr.: You don’t even smoke pot, Habit._

_[seconds ago] Jeff Koval Jr.: And besides, even if that IS what we all thought at first the bloody items all over your room suggested otherwise._

_[seconds ago] HABIT Jennings: * don’t smoke pot ANYMORE_

Habit did not reply to the other part. Noah wasn’t surprised.

Habit had taken the news of Alex’s impending visit and cross-country walk astonishingly well. The only thing he’d done was get his phone out and text Alex telling him to stay off the highway if he could help it and to try to pack something he could put under his sleeping bag to keep him off the ground so he wouldn’t get quite as cold. Alex replied almost immediately with a thank you. That was followed by, “got any other wilderness survival tips, o wise one?”

Habit promptly provided him with at least six more.

After the next hour passed, Habit checked up on the investigation situation through Evan, who said that the police had basically told their parents there wasn’t anything they could do, now, because he was legally an adult and obviously fine. They’d said they’d get the police in Noah’s town to be on the lookout for Noah, though, and then maybe through that they might find Habit. Habit relayed that part with a hint of worry in his eyes.

Noah cursed.

And, within the next twenty minutes, there was a telltale knocking on the front door. Obviously policemen, even before they announced themselves. Habit and Noah wondered if the men could see them through the window in the door, or if they saw the abandoned house in Florida instead. They decided they didn’t care and just sat quietly on the couch, playing phone games until they heard the distinct sound of a door being kicked in.

Their heads shot up, but the front door was still where it was supposed to be.

They decided to ignore that, too, even while they heard the police moving around the house. They couldn’t see them, and they knew they weren’t in their mansion - they were in the Florida house. They just had the benefit of hearing what was going on.

Eventually the police left and put the door back where it belonged, if the struggling noises were any indication.

Habit had no idea he could actually be quiet around other people for that long, and when they were sure there was no one left both he and Noah breathed a sigh of relief. Noah frowned.

“I have something I need to do.” He stated, “But doing it right at this second would be suspicious.”

“What is it?”

“Go into my parents’ house, somehow, use the landline, or one of my parents’ cell phones if I can find one, to call the police, impersonate one of my parents, and get them to call off the search.”

“Yeah, that would be pretty suspicious right at this second. You should wait a little bit… But you might want to try and find your way into their house right at this moment.”

“You’re right.” Noah sighed. “Stay here?”

“You got it, chief.”

Noah got off the couch and wandered toward the back of the house, ignoring Habit’s questions while he did so. He popped out the door in the storage room and out into the clearing surrounding the mansion. He turned to the door and pulled it closed. All he could do was hope this hunch of his would work…

He reopened the door, concentrating, and stepped in before he could look at whatever room was in front of him. He found himself standing in his parents’ home.

He’d been right.

He was really liking his streak recently.

He searched the house quickly, snagging what he was fairly sure was his father’s cellphone from the master bedroom. After checking to see if there was any real damage from the police investigation, and finding none except for the front door, he flitted back out the back door, hoping to emerge back into the clearing. He did so.

That was a very nice thing to know. Being able to go between the homes was a relief, and knowing how was obviously important.

He was tempted to go back into the house to make the call, but decided against it. It was better for the call to be traced to the middle of whatever forest this was than to the house. He cleared his throat and worked on lowering his voice while he wandered into the trees. The unsettled feeling he always got out here returned with a vengeance, and he pushed it down. Hard.

Once satisfied with the imitation of his father’s voice, he was in the charred section of forest he and Habit had come across all those months ago. They hadn’t come this way in a while. He smiled slightly, the distinct look and smell and atmospheric _feel_ of burnt wood and grass doing very good things for his current mental state, as fire and warm things always seemed to recently. He plopped down in a very black patch of grass, opened the phone, and dialed the number for the police department rather than just calling 911.

The following conversation was shockingly civil despite his obvious displeasure for them kicking in the door of his house (he claimed he found out about that via a concerned neighbor), and while his meticulous imitation of his father nearly slipped once or twice he made it through the whole conversation. He managed, through some twist of fate, to convince them to call off the search post-haste, and explain to him why their first instinct was to go to his home and kick the door in when it was obvious nobody was home.

The cops were sheepish, at best, but with the statement of, “I trust my son not to do anything stupid before his 18th birthday,” the search was officially over after less than three hours. They asked him if he was sure, of course, to which he replied, “Yes, absolutely.”

Further questioning into it led to him saying, “He’s with an adult right now, isn’t he? And neither of them have gotten up to anything illegal. So I trust them.”

The conversation finally ended soon after that.

Noah felt himself breathing a sigh of relief. Most of his paranoia could say goodbye, now, and he and Habit could go out for groceries much more often. And that meant that he could reasonably avoid eating more man meat pretty much indefinitely until their funds and stored food ran out. He liked that idea.

But that idea brought something that he didn’t like with it.

It brought a severe hunger pain to his stomach that he hadn’t noticed before. He wished he didn’t know what it meant. But, at least, since he knew what it meant, he could take care of it.

Resigned, he got up, trekked back to the house, and grumbled to himself as he went to the kitchen. Habit asked him if his idea worked. He gave an affirmative while he dug out the jerky, which took longer than strictly necessary because he kept being hit with intense pain that made him double over. He tried to ignore it, he really did. It just wasn’t easy.

Finally he managed to find the bag Habit had started in on, and he yanked it out with a little more force than he needed to. His hands shook while he opened it up, and he almost didn’t hear Habit coming up behind him. But he did hear, and then he felt Habit’s arms around his waist.

“I gotcha.” Habit’s tone was comforting, “Hunger pains finally hitting you?”

Noah wished he _didn’t,_ but he literally whimpered in reply rather than speaking. That was more than enough answer, though, he thought.

Habit just shushed him, nuzzling at his neck. “You’re okay. Just eat a piece, you’ll feel better.”

Noah worked on doing so, hesitating before taking a bite despite knowing eating it would help. He still needed to get over the part where this was _human flesh_ he was about to eat. But he just couldn’t. He’d sucked it up for one piece all those months ago, but that was different. That was just making sure it wouldn’t make him sick and assuring he could eat it in an emergency.

“It’s not bad,” Habit mumbled. “It’s actually pretty good. And it’s not near as hard to do if you just get it over with as quick as possible.”

“This coming from the guy who’s perfectly capable of eating five or six pieces a day and is totally willing to do so.” Noah accused weakly.

“Practice.” Habit assured him. “But I don’t think you’ll really end up needing it if it only affects you every once in awhile and not at least once a week.”

Finally, Noah managed to convince himself to take a chunk out of it. It didn’t taste bad, like he knew it wouldn’t, and it went down considerably easier than his stomach tried to make him think it would. There was a very slight relief immediately. He forced another bite down.

“Good boy,” Habit praised, and Noah really wished it wouldn’t make him feel so nice to be praised. “That’s the ticket. Just finish off that piece.”

Noah ignored the part where he was encouraging him to be a cannibal and doing a very good job of it. He focused on eating and the feeling of Habit’s arms wrapped tight around his stomach. He focused on the way Habit’s breath rustled his hair, and how warm he was getting from Habit pressing so close to him.

He managed to finish the piece.

“Good boy,” Habit said again, nuzzling his neck a little more affectionately than Noah cared to think about, “Now just sit tight. You’ll feel better real soon.”

They stood there until the pain faded and Noah felt his body relax.

“How did you know?” He asked.

“I didn’t. I just knew you didn’t answer me, or if you did it was quiet, so I came to try and convince you to answer or repeat yourself.” Habit shrugged.

“I didn’t even know you said anything after asking me if it worked.”

“I’m not surprised.” He shifted, but curiously didn’t let go of him or try to move away. “I asked you if that meant we could finally relax and stop living in total solitude.”

“Oh.” Noah blinked. “Yeah, I think so. We could invite somebody I know around here over or something? Get you some socialization.”

“Well I kinda meant going out on the town…” Habit trailed.

“I know. I just wanna wait for that until the police department fixes the front door.”

“Fair.” Habit conceded.

They continued to stand there like that, pressed close together, and Noah didn’t have the energy or even the desire to complain about it.


	19. Kevin

The long and extremely displeased comment Habit got from his mother on Facebook in reply to his pot comment sat there unread for over two hours. The shorter one from Lyra did too. All the other replies simply saying, “I knew it!” got a quick glance thrown at them as they came in.

Mostly, Habit and Noah ignored Habit’s laptop in favor of trying to be cozy on the couch. Habit was being oddly touchy feely, still, but Noah was all too happy to indulge him. After all - who wouldn’t be all over getting cuddles from somebody who liked to pretend he hated people? Especially if that somebody was really warm and you had a _major_ crush on them?

Noah tried to push his feelings aside, regardless of his acceptance of them, because telling Habit still wasn’t an option and that meant thinking about it too much wasn’t good for him. He’d just make himself sad.

Who wanted to make themself sad? Not him. So, understandably, he did his best not to… Not that he was often successful.

He put all those thoughts aside and focused on the warmth of the embrace. He thought about how nice it was to be held by anybody, and how nice it felt to hold someone. He unconsciously nuzzled into Habit’s neck, and Habit responded by doing the same to his hair. Noah tried to ignore that - it didn’t mean anything, after all.

Eventually, against their usual dynamic as of late, they fell asleep there, together, on the couch.

* * *

In the morning, the two of them were much more tangled together than they’d been when they fell asleep. Noah found he really didn’t mind, past the part where he really needed to piss and he couldn’t do that. Mostly because he couldn’t figure out where his limbs ended and Habit’s begun.

Eventually the urge to empty his bladder increased enough to make him at least attempt to disengage himself from the somewhat shorter man. Habit hummed at him and lazily maneuvered along with him until they were no longer a tangle of limbs. Habit looked a lot more awake than he was acting, but Noah didn’t really care that much. If Habit wanted to act sleepy, who was he to stop him? He knew he was, personally, a hell of a lot more awake than he let himself look at the moment.

He didn’t bother to try and coordinate his body so that he wouldn’t fall over or bump into things, and didn’t do much complaining when those exact things happened. And, okay, he didn’t so much fall over as his legs briefly lost consistency and buckled under him about three feet from the bathroom door.

He ended up just lying there for a good ten minutes before his body reminded him why he was here instead of comfortable and warm on the couch.

He groaned and pushed himself up, finally managing to get into the room. He sighed to himself. What was he doing with his life? Here he was, about to turn 18 in less than a week, and yet… He just laid on the floor for upwards of ten minutes just because he was too lazy to get up. He was in no way ready for adulthood and he knew it.

In his distraction, he hadn’t realized he was not standing in the mansion’s downstairs bathroom. He blinked at the room, then decided it didn’t matter that he was somehow in his parents’ house as long as he could do his business. And he could, so… Yeah. He wasn’t really going to look too far into it. All this meant was that he didn’t have to leave the house entirely to go between the houses. He could deal with that.

He exited back out into the mansion.

God, that was fucking _weird._ He ignored that fact in favor of wandering back to the living room to try and convince Habit to let him go back to snuggling him. It was cold without anybody touching him, which was to be expected what with winter coming on. It was normal for it to get cold in winter in the middle of the woods, but still. He wanted to be warm, dammit.

When he padded back into the living room, Habit was not there. He guessed he wasn’t really surprised. Habit likely had his own things to do, his own early morning routine to fill. Noah just sighed and went to sit back down before it suddenly occurred to him that something had seemed a little off about himself in the mirror. He guessed he really was pretty tired if he hadn’t realized it before.

He got up and paced to the mirror in the entranceway.

There _was_ something off, but at first he couldn’t really place it… And then he saw it, by pure chance. The gold and red flecks in his eyes were more numerous, now, and the brown beneath them was lighter, almost gold on its own. He hummed, then had an idea. He concentrated, thinking about the color they used to be, and… The next time he blinked they changed to that color. Huh. That was neat.

He examined his fangs, too, noticing they’d grown bigger, though not by much. He hummed again, closing his mouth, and tried basically the same thing he had with his eyes, except for his teeth he just imagined the smaller fangs from before. He forced a grin at himself. They’d changed back.

Well, at least he could disguise his changes if he needed to.

He didn’t bother trying to change anything back, but he also didn’t bother trying to hold the appearance. As such, as he was walking away, he saw his eyes flicker back to the lighter brown with all the speckles. He figured that was okay - it wasn’t like anybody was going to be seeing him any time soon anyway.

When he returned to the living room proper he found Habit had returned and was chewing on a piece of the jerky with vague annoyance.

“Maybe you should just cook up a chunk.” Noah suggested. “I imagine the jerky’s getting old.”

“Kind of, yeah.” Habit admitted. “Wonder if there’s a meat grinder in that storage room…”

“Could be. Couldn’t hurt to check.”

Habit hummed and got up to do, presumably, exactly that. “You want the rest of this?” He offered the jerky to Noah.

“Sure, why not.” Noah shrugged, accepting it. He ignored the part where Habit’s mouth had been on the meat. No need to think about that.

Habit didn’t say anything about that, either, so it was much easier to ignore while he took a bite out of it. He hesitated, of course, but he did manage to convince himself to do it quicker this time. It still really wasn’t that bad, but his stomach still braced for him needing to puke. That probably wasn’t going to stop until he ate more of this stuff.

For lack of anything better to do at the time, he followed Habit to the storage room and helped him look around after he’d finished off the piece of jerky. Eventually they did, indeed, come across a meat grinder. Habit snatched it out of Noah’s hands as soon as he saw it.

He all but sprinted to the kitchen.

Noah made to follow him, but paused when his phone went off in his pocket. He figured it was probably just Alex again, since nobody else ever really called him. But when he pulled the phone from his pocket, he found that he was wrong. It wasn’t Alex.

It was Kevin.

It was fucking _Kevin Haas,_ calling him out of the blue after a fucking year and a half of radio silence. Noah couldn’t decide if he was more angry or relieved - angry that Kevin was finally picking him back up after dropping him like a hot potato and relieved that Kevin was alive. He was okay. He wasn’t dead.

The anger was winning out, all of a sudden. Kevin was _alive,_ and he hadn’t bothered to call him in over a _year._

Man did he have some fucking words for this guy.

He answered the call, for once forgoing a greeting in favor of getting his irritation out of the way. “You have some fucking nerve.”

“Nice talking to you again too.” Kevin sighed on the other end, “Yeah. I know. I fucked up by not talking to you for over a year.”

“You ignored my calls.” Noah reminded him, fuming a bit.

“And your texts,” Kevin agreed, sounding quite exhausted, “Yeah. I’m really sorry about all that. Things have just been really crazy since the last time we talked and I… Well. I wasn’t really supposed to be talking to anybody anyway, and especially not you, for some reason. I wanted to let you know but every time I tried I lost my nerve.”

Noah huffed, but found he couldn’t really argue if that was his reasoning. He knew _all_ about things being crazy and having problems with talking to someone aside from his own social anxiety. “I guess I can forgive you for that. But why call me _now_?”

“Because shit settled down and there’s no longer a threat hanging over my head if I try to talk to people?” Kevin suggested. “And the first person I thought to call was you?”

“I’m flattered.” Noah couldn’t help the flat tone. “Really, I am.”

He almost felt Kevin flinch. “This was… A bad idea, wasn’t it?”

“No, no, it’s good that you decided to contact me.” Noah assured him, “I was starting to think you went the route of Milo and nobody bothered to tell me.”

This time he was pretty sure he _did_ feel Kevin flinch. Like _genuinely_ felt it. “I mean. It almost happened.” He admitted, “But that’s not really the point here. I… I miss you, dude. You still live at the same address?”

“Yeah.” Noah said immediately, internally cringing. “... And I miss you too. But I don’t think right at this instant is a great time for you to come over, okay?”

“I was thinking probably later today or tomorrow. But out of curiosity…?”

“Well the cops kinda kicked in the front door yesterday. Looking for me. Dad wasn’t happy.”

“Why were the cops looking for you?” Kevin sounded extremely alarmed. Noah didn’t really blame him.

“Well I’m kind of ‘missing’ right now.” Noah made sure to put emphasis on it, enough that Kevin should be able to _see_ the air quotes around the word. “Habit Jennings and I are chilling out here because honestly shits been kinda crazy for me, too, and I accidentally got him involved. He just turned 18 and let his family know he was alive, told everybody he was alright because he was with me, and then all of a sudden there were police because I didn’t realize how long it had been since I went out in public.” He took a breath, “Wow. I’m rambling. I’m sorry, I- I don’t really talk to anyone but Habit.”

Kevin was quiet for a minute. “You mean the Habit Jennings who threatened to gut you with a plastic spoon? _That_ Habit Jennings?”

“Yeah. Turns out he’s not so bad under the dark humor and death threats.” He heard Kevin snort. “I know, sounds fake, right?”

“Sounds _so_ fake.” Kevin agreed. “So… What am I waiting for to come over, anyway?”

“Somebody fixing the front door so I can stop hiding in my room.”

“... Fair.” Kevin finally said. Then he was quiet again for a bit, and Noah couldn’t think of anything to say, either, so it was really, _really_ quiet. “Text me when I can come over?”

“Sure. You realize I’m equally as likely to punch you as hug you, though, right?”

“I’m willing to take my chances.”

Noah smiled. “I should probably go - Habit’s trying to figure out how to work a meat grinder.”

“Oh dear.”

The rest of the conversation was short, and within the next minute and a half Noah was stood staring at the phone as the call disconnected. He let himself process what had happened, then decided it was time for some experiments. If Kevin was coming over, he’d need to come to Noah’s parents’ house, not the mansion. And if he went to Noah’s parents’ house, there needed to be furniture in the house.

He popped his head into the kitchen and told Habit his plan, and that they might have a visitor within the next few days. Habit wholly approved of both, though he seemed skeptical that Noah would be able to just transport things back and forth between the houses.

Noah stuck his tongue out at him and went to do it anyway. He’d only told Habit so the guy wouldn’t be too freaked out when/if some of the kitchen furniture vanished into thin air.

He moved to a room with a door and stepped in, closing it behind him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and concentrated hard on moving all the appropriate furniture back into his parents’ house with him when he stepped back through.

He opened the door.

* * *

He managed to master the art of moving shit between the houses within the span of an hour. By the end of it he could just imagine the item he needed and it would pop into existence right where it belonged. He’d like to just be able to somehow make carbon copies of everything and keep them in their appropriate places so he didn’t _have_ to move everything around, but… Well, that wasn’t quite possible. At least not that he could tell.

He managed to convince Habit to practice it, too, and he unsurprisingly picked up on it a lot quicker than Noah had. He could even pop things into existence where they _weren’t_ supposed to be. On purpose.

“Watch that spot.” He pointed at a blank area of floor.

When Noah obliged and focused on that spot, he laughed. And then the armchair, which was not only already in the room in the appropriate house, but also supposed to be on the other side of the room… Appeared in that spot. Noah tried to do the same thing, but he couldn’t concentrate well enough to do it. Habit informed him that he probably just wasn’t creative enough.

“You’ve got a mental map of where shit’s supposed to go. You just don’t have the tools to edit that map.”

He guessed that was fair.

* * *

Some time late in the day, some cops showed up on the property. They seemed surprised by Noah’s presence there, but didn’t make much comment on it. Habit hid out in the mansion for the time being. He didn’t know how they hadn’t seen his car the first time they were here, how they didn’t see it now, but obviously they didn’t. The three or four cops made quick work of repairing the door and doorframe, and then they were gone.

When they were halfway down the block, Noah’s father’s phone rang. He cringed, tested his “Dad voice,” and picked up. He noticed that Habit’s car wasn’t out front… Until the cops rounded the corner and were no longer within view. Then it suddenly popped back into existence.

“Yes?”

“We just wanted to alert you to the fact that your son seems to have returned home, sir. He was present while we repaired the front door.”

“I see. I’m glad to know he is, indeed, safe. Thank you.”

“Not a problem, sir.”

They hung up.

* * *

Noah messaged Kevin first thing the next morning. He got an immediate reply.

Within an hour, Kevin was knocking on the front door of his parents’ house. Habit answered the door while Noah nursed a cup of coffee in the kitchen, in full view of the front door. Kevin and Habit had a brief exchange, likely introducing themselves, and Noah made note of Kevin’s apparent fascination with Habit’s eyes and fangs.

He could relate. They were kind of mesmerizing nowadays, much closer to the color his contacts had been, but somehow deeper than they’d been. He didn’t want to perpetuate romance stereotypes by saying it, but he could _drown_ in those eyes. He’d be happy to, actually. Partially because, if he drowned, Habit could never ridicule him for his feelings.

“Morning, Noah.” Kevin greeted him, finally approaching.

“Morning.” Noah gave him a tired smile, setting his cup down and standing up from the table.

Kevin watched him, half-wary, half-excited. “You gonna punch me? Or is it gonna be a hug.”

“I’m not sure yet.” Noah stepped closer. “Could be both.”

That made Kevin laugh, and while he was distracted Noah stepped closer and tugged him into a tight hug. Kevin stopped, tensing, and then melted into the touch. He wrapped his arms around Noah as well, burying his face in his neck.

“You’ve lost weight.” Noah noted, after a moment. “Like you needed to be any more of a twink.”

Kevin muffled a snort in his shirt. Habit muffled one behind his hand.

“You guys wanna play some video games or something?”

Of course Habit would offer. Noah and Kevin let go of each other, and Noah shrugged. “Sure.”

“Sounds good to me.” Kevin agreed.

And so that was what they did. They moved to the living room, set up a multi-player game, and they gamed until lunch time. Habit cooked for them, of course. Kevin complimented Habit on his cooking, Habit preened like a proud peacock, and Noah laughed at both of them.

It felt domestic and, for lack of a better term, _good_.

They returned to the living room, after lunch, and instead of going back to their games they turned on Netflix, and the three of them actually managed to agree on a movie. They only had to pause it once so they could take a bathroom break, because Kevin’s bladder was evidently the weakest one in the room. Kevin punched Noah when he made note of that.

Come nightfall, Kevin prepared to leave.

“That was… Really fun.” He smiled at them as he pulled his shoes on. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Definitely.” Habit chuckled. He’d been a _lot_ more friendly with Kevin than Noah had been expecting him to be, but he considered it enough of a blessing not to question it. “It’s all up to Noah, though.” He glanced at him with a grin.

“Just message me anytime you wanna come over. I’ve got run of the house.” He said.

Kevin did a little fist pump at that. “Hell yeah. It’ll be nice being able to see a friendly face again on a regular basis.”

Both Noah and Habit laughed.

“Same here.” Habit admitted. “Great as hanging out with Noah every day is, having someone else around spices things up.”

Noah made a show of looking flattered. “You think hanging out with me is great?”

Habit only snorted, and obviously tried not to actually laugh. Noah smirked at him. His attention returned to Kevin, then. “Seriously, though, hit me up anytime. We probably won’t be busy like… 98% of the time. And if we are I can let you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Kevin smiled at him. “I’d better go, it’s getting dark out.”

“That it is.” Habit agreed, then, as Kevin was about to open the door, “Where’d you say you live, again?”

“About a town over. Why?” Kevin glanced at him over his shoulder.

Noah looked between them, furrowing his brows at the look that had taken over Habit’s face. It didn’t look pleasant, or anywhere near as friendly as it had before. He swallowed.

“Because I don’t see a car out there. Did you walk?” The question was sarcastic - Habit knew it was unlikely. Noah knew it too.

“No.” Kevin’s vaguely perplexed expression shifted into an amused one. _Unsettlingly_ amused. He was grinning ear to ear. “Our tall friend gave me a lift.”

Noah felt his eyes go wide at the same moment he felt his heart start hammering in his chest. He didn’t even manage to splutter for a reply to that. He was stuck. Deer in the headlights.

He could tell Habit was in a similar state, except Habit was _talking_ , and Noah had to force himself to zone back in to hear him.

“- _knew_ it!”

Kevin didn’t seem affected by the anger in Habit’s voice, or the way Habit stepped closer to him in a threatening manner. He just kept grinning that unsettling grin. Noah realized that it unsettled him so much because of the fangs. “Are you enjoying your gift?”

Noah’s panic rose to new heights.

It only went up higher when Kevin vanished right in front of them, leaving the front door standing wide open and no trace of himself where he’d been standing.

Noah could still hear Habit cursing, but through the way the world was spinning around him and his breathing was coming in gasps, he didn’t have it in himself to care that Habit was angry. He lost track of what was happening for a while.

When he came back, it was because of a sharp pain in his stomach. He jerked, bucking up slightly though he didn’t know when he’d been laid down. His hands were tied above his head. His legs were being pinned down by…

Habit. It was Habit. He realized it almost at the same second Habit shushed him and laid a finger over his lips.

“Chill. Just me.”

“... Why are you…?”

“Because we both need to calm the hell down.” Habit explained.

Noah nodded and relaxed. That was fair. That was _true._ They needed to calm down. This would do the trick. It always did. It calmed Habit more than it calmed Noah, but still. It still worked, in the end.

The knife bit into his stomach again. Deep. Noah’s body twitched something fierce. Habit had cut deep enough to touch his intestines again - why wasn’t Noah surprised that was the first idea the man had? And why wasn’t he surprised that that was exactly what Habit did?

He felt his fingers dip into the wound, and it made his toes curl with the still unfamiliar sensation. It wasn’t unpleasant, exactly, nor was it actually _pleasant_. It was just… Weird. Noah could handle weird.

Habit went about feeling around inside his abdomen, and Noah was shocked to feel himself _actually_ calming down. He felt clearer headed just from Habit cutting him open and playing with his guts. Something about that seemed off, but he still wasn’t in the state of mind to really question it.

When Habit’s hand moved at an angle that pulled on the edges of the cut, he hissed. Habit hummed in reply and carefully repositioned his hand to avoid it. As much as he enjoyed Noah in pain, he seemed more focused on the bloodletting today than the actual wounds. Noah was pretty okay with that. He was also pretty okay with the fact that he could feel Habit’s dick twitching against his thigh while he worked, all things considering. He wasn’t super embarrassed about it, or disgusted, or even excited at the prospect. He was just… Okay with it happening.

An undetermined amount of time later, Habit removed his hand from Noah’s guts. By that point Noah had started to space out, even though he didn’t feel the effects of blood loss like he had the last few times. He was just at ease enough to let his mind wander, which was… Honestly kind of fucked up, if he thought about it. But that was okay.

He brought himself back to reality at the feeling of Habit’s hand leaving his abdomen. He watched with some sort of sick curiosity while Habit examined his blood covered and and then-

And then licked a stripe up the back of it, scooping up a good amount of blood with his tongue and drawing it into his mouth. He seemed to contemplate the flavor for a moment before giving a neutral sounding hum.

He reached up and ran the bloody hand through Noah’s hair, to his vague displeasure, leaning over him. Before he could really ask what was going on or protest it in any capacity, Habit was kissing him. A tongue swept over his lower lip, and against his better judgement he opened his mouth to allow access. The taste of copper flooded his mouth with the introduction of Habit’s tongue to his, but soon seemed to change. It wasn’t such an unpleasant flavor now, but he couldn’t describe what it tasted like.

Distracted as he was, he still didn’t miss Habit’s other hand fiddling with the knots in the rope that held his hands above his head. He mostly ignored that until his hands were free. Not knowing what to do since Habit still hadn’t pulled away or stopped kissing him, he placed his newly freed arms over Habit’s shoulders and grabbed hold of his shirt as gently as he could force himself to.

He felt the bloody hand move from his hair back down onto his neck. Habit’s thumb swept over his jugular, then his Adam’s apple, and settled on the other side of his throat. Noah swallowed and angled his head back a bit to give Habit more room.

Habit pulled back, finally, if only an inch or so, and muttered, “Good boy.”

Noah didn’t have a chance to react to that before Habit squeezed his throat once in warning of what was about to happen, then squeezed again much harder. His back arched slightly, a moan managing to worm its way out of his mouth. Habit seemed pleased with that response and kept hold of his throat when he returned his mouth to Noah’s.

Noah squeezed Habit’s shoulders when the lack of air got to him, and thank the _Lord_ that Habit seemed to know what it meant. He loosened his grip significantly, but didn’t unhand him completely. Noah found he actually liked that.

He was too out of it to be ashamed that his dick _also_ liked that. A lot. He was also too out of it to be ashamed that when Habit squeezed hard again he bucked his hips. All he felt about it was that it felt good to get some friction out of the deal. And that it was nice that Habit’s response to them brushing against each other like that was to unabashedly rut against him.

Habit pulled back from the kiss and released his throat, panting a little bit. “... I’m going to fuck you senseless.” He said, “This is the only chance you’re getting to tell me no.”

Noah’s response was to grumble, “Why would I say no?”

Habit snorted and moved so he was no longer straddling Noah’s thighs. Undressing each other seemed a little too personal, a little too close to romantic, so Noah was happy to divest himself of his pants and boxers without Habit’s help. Sure, it made him finally feel a little woozy since he had to sit up a little to manage it, but whatever.

Habit quickly stripped down, too, moving back near where he’d been before. He considered Noah’s body for a moment, almost looking more appreciative than strictly necessary, before getting in between Noah’s legs. Unsure of what to do, exactly, Noah chose to drink in the sight of Habit, just as naked as he was.

He tried not to look lovestruck while he did it, and judging by the way that Habit wasn’t glaring at him he was pretty sure he was managing.

After a moment or two, Habit pushed one of Noah’s legs up, then trailed his hand down the back of his thigh toward his ass. Almost as an afterthought, Habit muttered, “When’s the last time you showered and cleaned that out?”

“Literally this morning.” Noah grunted. “I’m more hygienic than you give me credit for.”

Habit just snorted. “You’ll need to do it again when we finish up. I don’t have any condoms and I misplaced my lube.”

“How are you planning on opening me up, then?” Noah quirked a brow. “I’m not letting you go in dry.”

“I didn’t plan on it.” Habit smirked at him, then very pointedly dipped his fingers back into the wound on Noah’s abdomen. “This should do fine.”

“My life has turned into a bad fanfic.” Noah remarked, letting his head fall back.

Habit laughed and got to work. He went slow and careful, for the most part, but once he was fairly sure Noah could handle what he was doing he tended to get rougher. Secretly, Noah liked all of it quite a lot. He only let on that he was enjoying it at all through small noises rather than moaning like a whore. He never understood how or why someone would make that much noise during sex.

“I think you’re ready.” Habit remarked, voice low and husky. It almost sounded like there was a deeper voice just beneath his.

Noah just nodded his agreement, not bothering to open his eyes, which he didn’t really remember squeezing closed. Right before Habit pressed against him he found himself asking, “So why is this where this went today?”

“Dunno. Guess we’re just horny.” Habit replied rather flippantly.

“Fair enough.” Noah managed to say right before Habit pushed into him. Anything that could have followed was cut off by a weak moan and the arching of his back.

Noah knew very well what happened during their coupling, but at the same time he couldn’t really focus on any one event during it. He remembered there was a lot of kissing, and that he was being surprisingly loud, but he couldn’t remember an individual instance of a kiss. They all sort of smeared together while Habit treated him with a level of roughness he likely wouldn’t have liked coming from anybody else.

The only thing that stuck out to him was Habit leaning in closer and dipping his head lower. It stuck out because he wondered what was going through Habit’s head. Was he about to get a hickey, or was Habit just hiding his face?

The answer was _technically_ closer to his first guess, but both guesses were still wrong because the right answer was that Habit was going to reopen the scar on the junction between his shoulder and neck. He lined his teeth up with the prior bitemark and then sank them in. Against his will, the sharp pain made Noah moan louder and buck his hips slightly.

If Habit noticed the response, he didn’t say anything about it. He just withdrew his teeth from the bite and sucked on it. Noah just gave this utterly wrecked sound.

Within the next three minutes, he came. Habit muffled an actual, honest-to-God _growl_ in the bite he was so fascinated with before he followed suit. Noah went limp and panted beneath him and considered how weird it felt to actually _feel_ Habit twitching inside him. Habit very nearly collapsed onto him, but managed to keep himself up long enough to pull out.

And, of course, he did so as slow as he possibly could, laughing softly when it made Noah whine. Then he flopped down next to him and laid an arm over his chest. “You’re stayin’ right here.” He told him.

Noah chose not to complain. He closed his eyes, instead, and relaxed the best he could. It wasn’t difficult. He slipped off to sleep soon afterwards. He couldn’t be sure how long it took Habit to do so as well, but he guessed it didn’t really matter as long as Habit got some sleep.


	20. A Dying Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Lots of non-graphic torture, a bit of graphic torture, and "vague" references to non-consensual sex acts. Also there's at least one (1) Nazi.

Following that little adventure, Noah and Habit both kind of expected shit to get a little awkward. It was much to their surprise that nothing did - everything stayed pretty normal, even if Noah did keep looking at Habit and having to smack himself because he was imagining him naked.

Two days later, they ended up falling into bed together again. Noah wished he could say he was surprised.

The next day he regretted it, if only because his body was too sore for birthday sex. Because _damn_ did he want birthday sex. He guessed he could settle for late night sex the night before his birthday, though… Especially considering how Habit was treating him.

While there hadn’t been much fuss for Habit’s birthday, the guy was going out of his way to try and make Noah’s a good one. He guessed part of it may have been because he was still a bit of a mess after the whole Kevin thing. So Habit was doing everything in his power to make it seem like more of a special day than either of them really thought it was. He was making him a birthday dinner and everything, and Noah wasn’t allowed to see what he was cooking.

Noah guessed that was okay. Whatever it was smelled pretty good, so he didn’t mind not knowing it was if it was going to taste anywhere near as good as it smelled. He also smelled a cake baking, for certain.

He would have objected if it really bothered him at all that Habit was purposely treating him nicely and trying to treat him for his birthday. Seeing as it didn’t, however, he let it lie and let Habit do what he wanted. After all, who in the world would really, honestly object to someone being nice to them on their birthday?

They had a really nice lunch while playing video games, then had a really nice dinner later that night. And by “really nice dinner,” he meant that it was kind of perfect. Habit had forgone using any pork for once in his life and had really put his skills to the test to make sure everything they ate was, for lack of a better word, _delicious._ And, sure, Noah knew that some of the dishes were made of human, but if he ignored that…

Yeah. It was pretty great.

After that they had cake, which was also pretty damn good, and then they went back to the living room. They ended up nesting on the floor like they had so many months before and revisiting the idea of a horror movie marathon.

They didn’t pass out midway through a movie this time, but they did still fall asleep in their nest, swaddled in a bunch of fluffy blankets and tangled together in a way that kept them nice and warm in their constantly chilly house. Noah couldn’t remember a whole lot of times that he’d felt quite so comfortable. It was nice, and definitely a good way to end his birthday.

But that feeling of comfort and warmth was why he felt so distinctly _wrong_ when he woke up.

Because he was definitely not still cuddled up to Habit under three or four blankets. He wasn’t even touching anyone or covered up by anything. If he’d still had a cover he’d have considered the possibility that maybe Habit had gotten up to piss or something. But he didn’t still have a cover. He was laying on a floor, a hardwood floor, flat on his back. The floor was cold, but the air around him was warm.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the brightness of the floodlight that appeared to be trained on him. His first thought was that Habit was playing some sort of trick on him.

That thought vanished when a figure loomed over the top of him, too skinny and too tall to be Habit. For a moment he couldn’t see detail because the light was so bright behind whoever this was. He was aware of his heart pounding in his chest, but it stopped dead when his eyes adjusted (faster than they should have) and saw who stood over him.

Kevin.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.” Kevin said, wearing that unsettling grin again. “Good to see that those brutes didn’t scramble your brain trying to keep you asleep on the way here. That would have severely impeded things.”

Noah just stared at him, forcing his breathing to remain even. He didn’t _need_ to reply to that, did he?

Kevin laughed in reply to his silence. “Stubborn boy.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “By the end of this they’ll have broken you of that…” He paused, seemingly considering that, “Or they’ll have made it worse.” He admitted, “It really just depends on how well you hold up to this.”

Noah stayed quiet again.

Kevin chuckled like it was the funniest thing in the world. “You’ll say something eventually.” He said, “For the time being, if you happen to want to call out to me in ecstacy… Call me The Observer.”

Noah’s response to that was to spit at him. Kevin promptly introduced his face to the toe of his shoe. And with one last sickening grin, Kevin was gone.

A door latch clicked. Noah attempted to sit up, but failed, finding his limbs to be closer to the consistency of jelly than working body parts. His brief struggle brought him the haunting sound of two people laughing at him at once, both of their voices deeper than Kevin’s or even Habit’s.

One of them spoke, but he didn’t understand the words being spoken past the first three: “Guten Morgen, Noah.”

_“Good morning, Noah.”_

German was not one of Noah’s strong points - he could greet you, say goodbye, and wish you good health after you sneeze, but that was the extent of his fluency. He hoped he wasn’t expected to understand any of this.

“Es ist gut zu sehen, dass du wach bist. Jetzt kann der Spaß beginnen.” The man chuckled, and Noah struggled to decipher what he’d said. It sounded important.

“Ich glaube nicht, dass er dich verstehen kann, Totenkopf.” The second voice said.

“Sein Großvater ist Deutscher - wie konnte er das nicht verstehen?” The first sounded somewhere between perplexed and amused.

Noah was, admittedly, somewhat frustrated with his lack of ability to understand them. Even if he didn’t particularly enjoy listening in on people’s conversations, it would likely be beneficial to be able to do it right now. What if they were expecting a response?

“Manche Leute bringen ihren Jungen einfach nicht ihre Muttersprache bei, Totenkopf.” The second obviously shrugged, even though Noah couldn’t see it. There was a pause, then, “Ich werde ihn fragen.”

“Tu, was du willst…” The first, who Noah was beginning to suspect was named ‘Totenkopf’, paused before saying, “Obwohl ich ein bisschen pikant bin, wenn er mich wirklich nicht versteht.”

The second laughed, “Sorry about that, Noah.” He said, “I get the feeling you don’t speak German.”

“I can say hello, but that’s about it.” Noah admitted. Funny that he was more willing to talk to these two than he was to Kevin. He guessed he was just petty.

“Fair enough.” He replied. “Long story short… We’re glad you’re awake, because now… Well. Now we can have our fun.”

That sounded ominous. He swallowed hard and managed to lift his head to look at the men he was sure were about to become worthy of the title “torturers.” “Tormentors” at the very least.

He was vaguely frustrated to find that both of them were wearing masks, and he could not see their faces. One wore a skull mask and hoodie, and the other wore what appeared to be an old army outfit and a comedy theatre mask. If he had to guess, he would assume that Skull-Mask was the one who’d been called ‘Totenkopf’, because if he remembered correctly that roughly translated to “Death’s Head.”

If his perplexion showed, it seemed to amuse them. Comedy-Mask moved closer, planing his foot in the middle of Noah’s chest. “I suppose I should introduce us before we start.” He chuckled, “I’m Swain. And he’s Deadhead.”

“I knew it sounded like you were using ‘Totenkopf’ as a name.” Noah couldn’t help replying.

He thought that, maybe, not mentioning he was Jewish was a good course of action here. It was coming back to him now that the Totenkopf was, well, kind of a Nazi thing, and anybody who shared a name with it… He didn’t trust like that, was all he was saying.

He didn’t get a whole lot more time to ruminate on it, unfortunately. Or maybe it was fortunate that Swain and Deadhead both grabbed him under the armpits and yanked him both onto his feet and out of his thoughts. Maybe it was fortunate because maybe he shouldn’t be spacing out at the moment, and maybe he should pay attention, even if they did torture him. Maybe all his time with Habit could help him do that.

He was dragged over to the side of the room and plopped into what felt like a plastic chair. He watched the two masked men warily, somehow managing to keep his body upright despite not being able to move anything but his head. He chose not to question it. It probably wasn’t worth the headache.

He kept his eyes focused on them, swallowing hard, but somehow before he knew it Swain’s fist was impacting his face, exactly where Kevin had kicked him earlier. The remaining throb from that was all the pain he felt for the first couple seconds after the impact of Swain’s fist. His ears rang, head turning sideways with the blow, and his vision went foggy for a second.

And then the pain spiked as the taste of copper flooded his mouth. As usual with his blood, the taste of copper didn’t last. It took on a different flavor a few seconds in, a flavor that he couldn’t describe. He blinked away the stars he saw and turned his head back to focus on Swain and Deadhead. They were just… Watching him.

Deadhead leaned in close, laying his hands on the back of the chair behind Noah’s shoulders. His masked face was right in front him.

Noah’s instincts told him what to do, and he listened, spitting blood onto the mask and somehow managing to take control of his body to lean back in the chair, grip it hard, and plant his feet firmly in Deadhead’s gut, shoving hard enough to knock the chair into the wall and Deadhead a couple feet backwards and onto his ass.

Swain laughed, as did Deadhead.

“Spirited, aren’t you?” Swain asked, then, presumably to Deadhead, “Er ist sicher temperamentvoll, oder?”

“Ja,” Deadhead agreed, “Das wird ein Spaß.”

Noah would _like_ to say that he didn’t scream when Deadhead got back up and immediately shoved a pocket knife into his stomach. But he did. Even if he cut it off immediately by clamping his teeth, fangs and all, down over his lip, he screamed. And that made Swain and Deadhead howl with laughter.

Deadhead withdrew the knife and plunged it in in another area.

Expecting it this time, Noah did not give him the satisfaction of a scream.

Swain moved to his side, grabbing him by the hair and tipping his head back. His neck was now exposed to a psychopath with a knife - great. Like he didn’t do this to himself on purpose enough as it was.

“Sollten wir ihm die Kehle aufgeschlitzt und bekommen es über mit?” Swain asked, cocking his head to the side.

Deadhead withdrew the knife again and gave a contemplative hum, tapping the bloody blade to the side of his face. “Nein.” He finally said, “Es ist so lange her, dass wir ein Spielzeug hatten, Swain - willst du es nicht genießen, solange es hält?”

“Du hast einen Punkt, mein Freund.” Swain hummed, “Sollen wir es so lange wie möglich machen?”

“Ja, ich glaube schon.” Deadhead agreed.

Noah had a feeling they were grinning behind their masks and he couldn’t quite place why that was.

After that, things got foggy for a while. Noah knew very well what happened, of course. He knew everything they did to him. He knew he was thrown across the room several times, like a rag doll. He knew he was run through with a machete at least twice. He knew that Deadhead pulled his entrails from his gut and allowed them to lay strewn across the floor with no regard for the mess. He knew Swain choked him a few times, with his hands, with ligatures, with… Other things. He found it strange that that part didn’t put him off the thought of anything lewd in general, just put him off the thought of willingly doing anything with Swain.

He knew that Swain also pulled his hair. A lot. And he knew that, once or twice, both of them picked him up and just dropped him into the bloody mess they’d left behind from “playing” with him. He knew that Deadhead left for a while, at one point, leaving him with Swain, who carefully packed his drying entrails back where they were supposed to go and, hand just over the wound, closed it somehow and healed all his major wounds. He knew, during that, that Swain told him that he was nothing more than a toy to them right now. But when they were done, he’d be their equal.

He told him “The Observer” went through the same thing, and now he was almost more powerful than the two of them.

It took Noah an embarrassing amount of time to remember that The Observer was Kevin.

When Deadhead returned, he brought Kevin with him, and the torment began anew. Swain didn’t participate this time - he merely held him still, since he was finally getting some actual functional control of most of his body.  He held him still and Deadhead tore his body apart while Kevin watched.

Swain put him back together again, and this time both he and Deadhead held him down while Kevin undid all the work Swain put into healing him. He pummeled him, busted his lip, broke his nose, left his whole head fuzzy from the amount of blows. He made him choke up blood and removed one of his legs. He left bite marks all over his body to mark his territory.

And Swain, again, put his body back together like it had never happened.

Kevin, much more methodical this time, replaced the bruises and the bitemarks, and left a deep gouge where his leg had been cut off. He added new cuts. New bruises. But he didn’t do enough damage to warrant Swain healing him.

And then Kevin left.

It was just Noah and the masked freaks again. The torment resumed with a vigor, and again he found his intestines strewn across the floor, gut torn open and spilling more blood than he was aware he had in his body. Swain replaced his organs and healed the wound, but didn’t bother with any of the others.

Then Deadhead held him down again. Noah no longer really had the will to fight what was going on - because, believe him, he’d fought tooth and nail at first, or at least as close to tooth and nail as he could while he was mostly immobile. He’d kicked and thrashed once he’d gotten control of his limbs. He had given them as much Hell as he could muster and he’d paid for it. So, now, he just complacently went along with what was happening while Swain made an effort to choke him again, not with his hands or a rope or a toy, this time.

Noah didn’t choke. He didn’t choke just because he was so tired that not even his gag reflex felt it was worth the effort anymore. Somehow, that seemed to please the two of them, and they were much gentler with him once they realized he wasn’t fighting. Deadhead’s grip had loosened on his arms and in his hair, at first, and then he’d let go of his arms entirely. Noah just let them hang limply at his sides and tried not to concentrate on what was happening.

It still didn’t entirely put him off sex, and he still found that somewhat odd. But he still didn’t remark on it, mostly because he couldn’t and he was sure neither of them would care.

When that was over, he was shoved down so he was lying on his side. Swain did something to cause most of his wounds to scab over. Then they left, and Noah fell into a fitful sleep sometime later. He woke up alone, and was thankful for it. The door to the still mostly empty room stood open, and with some work he managed to get to his feet and hobble over to it.

It led into what was obviously a bedroom. He tried one of the three doors in the room, found it to be locked from the other side, and moved to the next one. This one opened to reveal a mostly-empty closet. He shook his head and closed it, moving to the last one. This one, too, opened, revealing a bathroom. He guessed the locked door probably led out into the rest of the house, if there _was_ a rest of the house.

He sighed and stepped into the bathroom. He did his business, cleaned himself up the best he could, and hobbled back out and back to the room he’d come from. No use trying to get out when he knew he didn’t have the strength to even attempt kicking open the door. And he did give the window a shot, but it was stuck shut and the drop was too far for him to feasibly make the jump down without hurting himself worse and therefore hindering his escape anyway.

He found a fairly clean corner and curled up there. He considered using the bed in the bedroom, but he’d really rather not chance it. Knowing his luck it was Swain’s bed and sleeping there would invite more than just a forced blowjob. Speaking of… He thought about the events of what was presumably the previous day a bit. He found he still wasn’t put off sex, even having had time to process what had happened.

That was… Good?

Yeah. Sure. Good worked.

Then he got to thinking about Habit. What was he doing right now? Was he looking for him? Panicking because Noah never left the house, and especially not for as long as he’d been gone now? It was just as likely as not, he had to admit. Habit wasn’t much of a panicker, but he was probably worried at the very least.

He didn’t get to think about it too much. He got about fifteen minutes into his ruminating and was brought out of it by a cheery, “Guten Morgen, Noah!”

He swallowed, then sighed. “Guten Morgen, Totenkopf.” He replied, resigned.

Deadhead laughed as he made his way into the room, but he didn’t say anything else for the time being. He just approached and squatted down in front of him, face just a few inches from his again. Noah was sorely tempted to repeat the spitting blood trick from yesterday, but the inside of his cheek had long since stopped bleeding.

Deadhead’s hand reached for him, and he unconsciously flinched slightly, making the masked man chuckle. His hand landed on top of Noah’s head and almost affectionately ruffled his hair.

After a moment, Noah’s mind began to feel scrambled. He worried Deadhead was trying to fry his brain and make him a permanently complacent toy. But then everything cleared back up and Deadhead gave another chuckle.

“There.” He said.

Noah was, at first, shocked to understand him. And then he understood - Deadhead had done something to his brain to make him capable of speaking and understanding more than just basic German. He cleared his throat, “Thanks?”

“It’s much more fun when we can understand each other.” Deadhead said instead of saying he was welcome. “I didn’t think to do it yesterday.”

“You were a little busy disemboweling me.” Noah pointed out, more passive aggressive than was probably healthy for him.

Deadhead just laughed. “That’s very true.” He stood. “Come now, get up. You must come with me and eat.”

Noah sighed, resigned, and obeyed. That seemed to please Deadhead, who put a strong hand on his shoulder and squeezed almost warningly. Noah got the message - no running. He wasn’t surprised, nor was he really interested in trying to run off. He knew he wouldn’t make it anywhere fast. He allowed Deadhead to lead him out into the bedroom, then out of the door that had previously been locked.

He was right in assuming that it was the door to the rest of the house. He was led out into a short hallway, then down a narrow flight of stairs. They emerged into a bigger, longer hallway, then went down a much wider, elegant staircase into what looked like the foyer of a large mansion - an _actual_ mansion, not like the large house he lived in with Habit.

Deadhead steered him around the bottom of the stairs, then into a door and down a carpeted hallway. They emerged into an open-concept kitchen and dining room. There were floor to ceiling windows all the way across the back wall of the room. In the center was a set of glass doors with gold handles leading out into the back yard which was… Considerably more extravagant than anything he’d ever seen in real life.

He’d admit to getting distracted staring at it while Deadhead steered him into a seat at the dinner table. His shoulder was squeezed very hard after he’d sat down, and when he moved his gaze to Deadhead, the man said, “Don’t even think it.”

“I wasn’t.” Noah said, “I was just thinking that that’s way fancier than I’d have the energy to maintain.”

That made Deadhead laugh, and at that moment Kevin sat a plate down in front of him. “I see you remembered to tweak his brain today.” He remarked.

Deadhead nodded.

Noah examined the food in front of him while he thought about why Deadhead and Swain wore masks while Kevin didn’t wear one. He picked at it disinterestedly, but did eat some, ignoring the two men who stood talking at his side.

“You do realize he’s Jewish, right?”

… At least until that line came from Kevin’s mouth.

“Oh, I’m aware.” Deadhead said, “Why do you think I’ve taken such great pleasure in his torment?”

Kevin shook his head and rolled his eyes, and Noah swallowed down the chunk of food he’d stopped chewing out of alarm. At least Deadhead already knew, he guessed. And he was still being pretty nice, all things considered.

Unless he was going to kill him when they got back up to the room, but he didn’t think that was going to happen. Not with what Swain had told him.

“Despite my beliefs,” Deadhead continued, “If the Administrator says we must work with him, there’s nothing to be done. Though perhaps we could convert him…”

“I doubt it. Noah is very stubborn.”

Noah thought it safe to assume they’d forgotten he could understand them now. He decided to keep it that way and keep eating.

He managed to eat everything on the plate despite the unease in his stomach and his general discomfort with the whole situation. It was a relief that Kevin had remembered he refused to eat pork, or he’d have had to make himself look rude and out himself further.

And then it hit that Deadhead had mentioned his beliefs.

Oh no, he’d been right. He was being tortured by a literal _Nazi_. He almost choked, but managed to avoid it, instead coughing into his elbow like he _hadn’t_ just forgotten how to breathe.

“Oh well.” Deadhead replied, “If nothing else it gives me something to do once he joins us for good.”

“What, torture him when he’s not needed? Don’t you do that to Swain enough?”

“Swain enjoys it.” Deadead pointed out, “That’s different.”

Kevin hummed, “I suppose you’re right. Ah - you’re done eating.”

Noah nodded, choosing not to speak. The plate on the table vanished, and Kevin grabbed him by the bicep.

“Alright, let’s get you back up there, then.”

Noah gave a dramatic sigh, getting up when Kevin tugged on his arm. He reluctantly let the man lead him back to the front of the house and up to the room he’d been in. He considered trying to run, this time, since Kevin was considerably smaller and weaker than Deadhead, but… Well. They knew their way around the mansion, he didn’t. And Kevin could teleport, which was unfair.

“You’re surprisingly complacent.” Kevin noted, and Noah was relieved to know that they’d switched back to English.

“I’m not stupid.” Noah replied sourly, “Running and fighting back won’t get me anywhere in a house I know nothing about, surrounded by whackjobs, at least one of whom can teleport. It’s not worth the effort.”

“Funny, “ Kevin hummed, “I was about to say the same about keeping you alive any longer.”

At this point, they’d returned to the room he’d started in. Before he could really say anything to that, Kevin had moved his hand from his bicep to his hair and slammed his face into the doorframe. Noah’s world went fuzzy, and then it went black.

He was aware that he wasn’t dead, though. He was very well aware of that fact, even before he felt his consciousness clawing its way back. He didn’t know _how_ he knew he wasn’t dead. He guessed it didn’t matter.

He groaned when he regained the ability to do so, eyes fluttering open, muscles twitching. His head protested the brightness of the floodlight above him and his being awake in the first place. He ignored that and tried to sit up, but as soon as he managed the world tilted dangerously and he found himself on his back once more.

Fair enough.

* * *

He’d allowed himself to drift back into unconsciousness at some point after that, and when he awoke again his pounding headache was gone and his head was in someone’s lap. His stomach ached in an unfortunately familiar way. He didn’t even have to open his eyes to know that he’d been cut open from pelvis to the spot where his ribs met once more, and that someone was pulling his organs out again.

Whoever had his head in their lap was petting his hair, and he guessed it was probably Swain, since he was the only one who was even remotely gentle to him. Deadhead was likely the one pulling his guts out. He wasn’t even surprised.

Then Swain gripped his hair and gently tugged until a good expanse of his neck was exposed to whoever was interested in it. Noah didn’t fight it. He didn’t fight it when he felt someone sink their fangs into his exposed jugular, either.

He did wince, though, and make a vaguely uncomfortable sound. Swain’s voice shushed him, and despite the teeth still being firmly buried in his neck he heard Kevin’s laugh from the bite along with Deadhead’s from further down. He allowed whatever this was to continue happening with a resigned sigh.

Kevin’s teeth pulled out of the mark they’d left, and the guy chuckled again before licking up the blood he’d drawn. If Noah didn’t have better control of his responses, he’d have shivered in a not entirely unpleasant way. Then Kevin’s mouth returned to the bite and he sucked. Noah was kind of surprised there was any blood for him to be drinking when Deadhead was spilling the majority of it all over the floor.

Speaking of him, he shoved his hand into Noah’s open abdominal cavity and ran his fingers over his ribs and spine, having emptied him of most of his organs. He played around, seeing what reactions he could get from him. He grabbed one of his lungs and squeezed it just to see how Noah would respond. Kevin worked on giving Noah a hickey, and Noah found it weird that Kevin was doing that instead of Swain, who seemed to be the most interested in making things sensual and sexual.

Things got fuzzy again for a while after that until Swain was piling his organs back into his gut and healing him yet again. Again, he only healed the most severe wounds. This time he didn’t bother clotting the bleeding areas. He didn’t even bother to completely seal his abdomen.

“It’ll all be over soon, Noah.” Swain assured him quietly as he got up. He knelt next to his head, now, flicking out the blade of a pocket knife. “Just relax.”

Noah couldn’t do anything except comply for the moment, even as Swain slit his throat open. He felt like this was a terrible parody of a kosher killing.

Then Swain was gone, and so was Deadhead. Kevin had vanished a long time before. He didn’t care where Kevin had gone. He was more worried about Deadhead and Swain.

A few minutes passed. He forced his body to work, forced it to respond, and slowly got to his feet. He stumbled. Caught himself. Stared at the door; closed. Hopeless. If he even made it over there he’d likely be unable to open the door. He was sure they’d locked it. They’d definitely locked it.

Wouldn’t want the mortally injured, shaky captive to go to the bathroom, would they?

He gave a shaky laugh. It hurt.

Everything hurt. All the little cuts and scrapes and deep gouges those two freaks had left on him. The bruises and bitemarks and all manner of other injuries that Kevin - no, not Kevin. _The Observer_ \- had left on him. His legs, struggling to hold him up now that he was alone. Especially the slit in his throat that Swain had left him with before he left him here to die.

He wasn’t sure how long ago the two freaks had left this time, but it couldn’t have been long if he was still on his feet.

Blood flowed down his trembling body, beneath what was left of his tattered clothes and onto the floor. It was warm, and somehow it felt… Kind of nice. But it shouldn’t have, he knew that. Surely this was the end of him, surely he was dying.

He knew he should move. There was no point in just standing here like a deer caught in the headlights. If he could still stand, he could still move, so… _Come on, body, **move**!_

Why wouldn’t it move? Was this really the end? God, he wished someone would come find him. He didn’t want to die - there was still so much he wanted to do, so much he _needed_ to do.

_Someone, anyone, please… Please help._

He knew he couldn’t do this on his own. He knew he couldn’t survive on without help. And he _couldn’t_ die.

He _needed_ to live.

…

Exhausted. He was absolutely _exhausted_. Maybe he should lay back down, wouldn’t that be easier? He let his legs give out, barely caught himself on shuddering arms, and rolled onto his back. Yeah… That was much more comfortable, but he still felt completely exhausted. Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a moment…

_No!_

He struggled to keep them open; he knew he couldn’t give in just yet. He couldn’t die yet. Help would come soon, he was sure of it, he just needed to keep his eyes open and wait for Habit. He was only lying down because it was easier.

... ...

Oh, God, he could see it now. This was how he would die. Alone, body broken beyond repair, growing weaker by the moment and knowing that no one would find him no matter how much he hoped they would. It would be too late even if someone did. He was going to die… And that was okay, he decided. That was fine.

He gave up.

His eyes slid closed, but he still shivered. He was _freezing_ and he knew he’d lost more blood since he got here than he’d ever lost before in his life. When did it get this cold, though? He wished he could convince his body to move again so he could warm up, or wrap a blanket around himself. Yeah. A blanket would be nice right about now...

At least he felt no pain anymore. Everything was numb… Numb and cold.

... ... ...

He was going to miss Habit.

* * *

Where was he?

Oh. Still here, huh? Still on the floor, shivering, alone. _Forgotten_.

Blood still poured out of his body - he wished it would stop. He wished it would just end already, _please make it end._ He didn’t even know how there was still blood in his body for him to lose - he should have bled out a long time ago. He should have died while he was out.

He wanted to stand up, but he couldn’t. His legs wouldn’t move. His body wouldn’t move. No, no, no, he _couldn’t_ die. Not today. Not _ever_. He had to survive, surely there was a way.

How did this happen to him? Where the hell did he go wrong? He couldn’t…

_Someone, help. Please. Please. There must be someone nearby. Please help, whoever, wherever you are. I don’t want to die._

He was so exhausted, so weak. He couldn’t lift his arms, he couldn’t even twitch his toes. He just wanted to fall asleep and wake up in his bed, leave all this behind as a nightmare. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t escape and he knew it and it was terrifying.

His eyes slid closed again. He was still so _cold_.

So alone.

He didn’t want to die alone. He didn’t want to die at _all_ , but he especially didn’t want to bite the dust all on his own in a room he had no recollection of prior to this ordeal. He didn’t want to die here. He wanted to die somewhere else. Somewhere warmer. If it had to happen, he wanted it to happen somewhere where he wouldn’t be shivering so much.

It was getting colder. So much colder. His shivering intensified, and there was no other way for him to warm up. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so cold before…

_Forgive me_.

He didn’t even know who he was asking for forgiveness from, anymore - it could have been God. It could have been Habit. Both were equally likely and he was too tired and weak to mull it over.

* * *

His eyes opened again later, he’s still unsure how long it was to this day.

His form was still trembling, but he no longer felt cold. He no longer felt anything. He was simply existing there, on the floor of this room he barely remembered.

Still. When he finally managed to maneuver his head a bit, he could see his hands were turning blue.

Well, the bits that weren’t stewing in his blood, that was.

He knew he needed to warm his body up, even if the cold would slow the bleeding a bit. At this rate he’d freeze to death long before he bled to death (though he reminded himself that, if he was going to bleed to death, it would have happened already). He didn’t want that. He’d rather lose every ounce of blood in his body than die cold and blue. He wasn’t entirely sure of why that was his preference, but he wasn’t entirely in his right mind at the moment, either. He thought it rather safe to say that delirium had set in, by that point in time. He had no idea what was going on anymore. And, past not freezing to death, he didn’t really care about anything.

That wasn’t true, actually. He still cared about Habit. He still wanted Habit to find him. Habit would know how to help, wouldn’t he?

… Wouldn’t he?

He sure fucking hoped so.

But by now it was seeming like he would never be found. By Habit or by anyone else, for that matter. And he really couldn’t find it in himself to mind too much. Sure, he didn’t want to die alone, and he most certainly didn’t want to freeze to death alone, but honestly there was nothing he could do about it, was there? He accepted his fate again.

He was going to die, cold and alone, and if Habit ever showed up it would be far too late.

He closed his eyes quite purposefully this time…

And opened them to meet Habit’s wide purple ones.

He heard his name, saw Habit’s mouth move in time with the sound, and then everything went black again. The only thought he had before he stopped being able to think was, _How did Habit get here?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I forgot to do this earlier~~ Here's the translations for the German lines. Bear in mind that I am Not German and If It Is Wrong, I Want To Know.
> 
> Deadhead: Good morning, Noah. It's good to see you're awake. Now the fun can begin.  
> Swain: I don't think he can understand you, [Deadhead].  
> Deadhead: His grandfather is German - how could he not understand?  
> Swain: Some people simply do not teach their young their native language, [Deadhead]. I'll ask him.  
> Deadhead: Do what you will... Although I'm in a bit of a pickle if he really doesn't understand me.  
> Swain: He sure is spirited, isn't he?  
> Deadhead: Yes. This will be fun.  
> Swain: Should we slit his throat and get it over with?  
> Deadhead: No. It's been so long since we had a toy, Swain - don't you want to enjoy it while it lasts?  
> Swain: You have a point, my friend. Shall we draw it out as long as possible, then?  
> Deadhead: Yes, I think so.


	21. Revival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First update of the New Year. Feels kind of surreal, to be honest... And of course it would be way shorter than the last few chapters lol
> 
> Also, I'm aware that my writing style is much more choppy and unstructured in this chapter; I would just like to say that I blame Habit's state of mind for that.

Habit had never been so worried in his life.

And, really, he’d never thought that that sentence would be applicable to a situation involving anyone but Evan or Lyra, but here he was. Applying it to Noah, of all people. Applying it to Noah almost dying.

Oh, who was he kidding? Noah hadn’t _almost_ died. He was dying _right now_. Right in front of him. And there was nothing he could do. Nothing at all.

He’d managed, somehow, to find him wherever the Hell he was. He still wasn’t sure how. He just knew that he’d been starting to panic, and he most certainly did _not_ panic under normal circumstances, and when he’d gone to leave the house to go looking for him (again, might he add), he had emerged not onto Noah’s street or into the woods, but into what looked unsettlingly like the attic in his old house. He’d found Noah laying on his back in a pool of his own blood, body turning blue where it wasn’t soaked in crimson.

He’d dropped down next to him, some horrible part of him telling him it was worthless to check for a pulse, but he’d reached out to do it anyway. And Noah had opened his eyes, staring blearily at him for a long moment. He’d heard himself say Noah’s name, horrified and relieved at the same time, and then Noah’s eyes had rolled back in his head and the lids had fallen closed.

He’d picked him up as quickly as he could manage and rushed back to the door, seeing the living room through the frame and concentrating on that as hard as he could. He’d emerged into it but he didn’t stop going until he was in his room and Noah was on his bed.

And now, here he was, staring down at the slowly healing wounds on Noah’s body that were closing faster than they should but slower than they needed to. He’d remembered to dash back down and close the door, but he hadn’t really done a whole lot of rational thinking since he’d done that. His mind was focused solely on the guy he honestly trusted a lot more than he thought he would, even this far along in living together. They’d been through some weird shit together already, and he guessed if anything was good for building trust it was surviving weird shit.

But it would all be for nothing if Noah didn’t wake up, wouldn’t it?

It would all be for nothing and Habit would be alone in the world and essentially fucked over completely because he was _smart,_ sure, but he couldn’t figure this all out by himself. And he hated admitting that, he really did. He hated admitting that he needed help with this shit. But he _did_ and even if they hadn’t really been making much of an effort to figure anything out so far he knew he’d figure it out quicker with Noah there to help.

The man in question groaned and shifted.

Habit tried not to get his hopes up.

He failed, and he was of course disappointed when Noah didn’t do anything else.

After a long while, he gave into his body’s urges and left the room. He cooked something and ate, because he hadn’t eaten since the day prior. He took a shower, because his hair was filthy and starting to get matted, and presentation was important. Presentation to _who_ he wasn’t exactly sure, but it didn’t matter. It was the only initiative he had.

He sat back down on the floor next to the bed and waited. Watched Noah like his own life depended on Noah waking up.

Noah stopped breathing an hour later.

Habit would later deny crying about that, but at the time he didn’t really care too much. He let his head fall onto the side of the bed, and he cried. And cried. And after he finished crying he lifted his head to look at his housemate. Look over the blueish skin and the red stains. Look over the tattered clothes and the seemingly endless cuts and bruises. And while he was looking all that over, Noah’s chest started to move again, at least half an hour after it initially stopped.

Habit cried again, this time from something akin to relief.

When night fell he was still thinking about the fact that Noah had been _dead_ for at least half an hour. He’d been _dead_ , and then he’d started breathing again with no outside assistance. Habit knew for a fact he hadn’t been giving him mouth to mouth when he’d started breathing again - he’d still been wiping the tears from his cheeks, too preoccupied with his death to try and revive him.

He went and ate again, and then without much regard for the fact that he’d gone out of his way to have a shower, he climbed into bed with Noah. He curled himself around his broken and bloody form, buried his face in his hair, and tried to imagine that he’d caused the wounds. He tried to imagine that Noah hadn’t literally died, and that he was just resting up after Habit had taken out his frustrations on him.

Eventually he fell asleep like that - face in Noah’s hair, hand clenched in the remnants of his shirt, leg thrown over his hips. He fell asleep and he dreamed of things that he didn’t entirely remember in the morning.

* * *

When he finally roused himself the next morning, Noah’s breathing was a little deeper, but he was still out cold.

It was with great reluctance that he disentangled himself from Noah and left to perform his morning ritual and eat something. He managed to choke down some bacon and eggs. It took effort that he didn’t think he’d ever need - he didn’t _feel_ hungry, in spite of his bottomless pit of a stomach. In fact, he kind of felt… Sick. He felt feverish and nauseated.

But he still ate.

And he managed to keep it down until he made it back up to the bedroom, though it very nearly came back up upon entering the room. He choked it back down. Then, with some effort, he managed to make himself sit down on the floor again instead of cuddling back up to Noah. He checked his pulse and body temperature - seemed it wasn’t just Habit who had a fever. Noah was burning up far hotter than Habit was.

In fact, it almost seemed like he was _actually_ burning up from the inside out. His chest was practically on fire, almost hot enough to _burn_ him. That was weird, and personally he wasn’t a very big fan.

_But,_ it was worlds better than Noah being cold and blue, so he guessed he could deal with it. He could deal with pretty much anything if it meant Noah wasn’t seconds away from dying again, he thought. Although burning up like that could possibly fry his brain and kill him that way...

He fell back asleep with his head on the edge of the bed, cradled in one of his arms.

He awoke, cotton-mouthed and bleary eyed, much later in the day. His clock claimed it was nearing seven. His fever had alleviated somewhat, it seemed, but he still wasn’t feeling too great. So, of course, his first instinct was to get up, go downstairs, and eat something.

Great plan, right?

It was all he could do to distract himself without feeling bad, though. It was the only way he could convince himself to stay out of his bedroom for any length of time, despite knowing that at any moment he could walk back up there and Noah could be gone again. It was all he could make himself leave the room for, period - everything else had to come while he was already out.

He stopped by the bathroom to dry heave a bit before he headed back upstairs. He managed not to throw up, thank God, but he did catch sight of himself in the mirror before he left… And his reflection bothered him a great deal. He’d just had a shower the day before and yet he looked ruffled, grimy, and exhausted. His face shown with a sheen of sweat that he definitely felt in the cold air of the house. He looked pale, and that only made the dark circles under his eyes look worse.

He shook his head, checked his fangs and eyes (which were finally turning the right purple), and forced himself out of the room before he could think any further on why he might look so bad. There was no reason for him to be sick, and even if he was sick, he was _fine_. He’d survive.

He had a higher chance than Noah did, at least.

He returned to the bedroom, and was met with a nearly stifling heat. He sucked in a breath and stumbled over to the bed. He reached out to touch Noah’s forehead, just to check on him, and immediately yanked his hand back. If Noah had been burning up before, he was _roasting_ now. Habit felt as if he’d very nearly been burned.

He almost couldn’t imagine crawling back into bed with him, but he did it anyway. He climbed into the bed, curled up at his side, and rested his head on top of his. He dealt with the intense heat through sheer force of will. He dealt with it and he eventually managed to fall asleep.

He woke in the middle of the night, and he wasn’t exactly surprised. The heat was _suffocating,_ rolling off of Noah in waves. Habit somehow managed to fumble his way out of bed and out of the room, coughing and shaking. Sweat streamed down his face, soaked into his shirt. Once in the comparatively freezing hallway outside his room he collapsed to his knees and did his best not to let the coughing fit he was experiencing turn into anything worse.

He left the door hanging wide open, and he could feel the heat following him into the hall, hanging like a thick fog. The air almost seemed smokey.

He ended up dragging himself a little further down the hall, away from the heat, into the comforting cold of the hall. He laid on the cool floor and did his best to breathe. In for six, out for six.

When his limbs stopped shaking, he got to his feet and stumbled back to the bedroom. The clock on his bedside table said it was almost four. Fair enough - he wasn’t likely to go back to sleep now anyway, no matter how sick and exhausted he happened to feel. Speaking of that, though…

He managed to get back downstairs and into the kitchen. He had to stop and lean against the table for a long moment, legs shaking. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he had his suspicions, so he waited it out. And then he grabbed some of the jerky from the cabinet. He managed to swallow a few bites. He left what remained of the piece he’d been eating on the table and somehow got himself into the storage room and back with a box fan without hurting himself.

He sat the box fan at the bottom of the stairs, returned to the kitchen to finish off the jerky, and bumbled up the staircase with the fan.

He sat it right outside the door and plugged it in, angling it to blow cold air into the room rather than blowing the hot air out. Within about fifteen minutes the room was a reasonable temperature once more, and he convinced himself to go back in and lay back down with Noah in spite of his still too hot body.

He managed to finish off the night, waking up at sunrise. He felt better, and Noah didn’t feel quite as warm now either. His head was clearer, and he figured that was as good an indicator as any that his suspicions had been right. He got back out of bed, ate some more jerky, and then returned to the room.

He stilled in the doorway, mind screeching to a halt.

Noah was sitting up.

Noah’s eyes were open.

_Noah was awake._


	22. The Firebrand

To say that everything was fuzzy for Noah at the moment would be an understatement. Perhaps the understatement of the century. Because he couldn’t really make sense of anything at all. Everything was completely indecipherable, thoughts fluttering in and out of focus just like what little of his surroundings he could see. The only thing he could really focus on was that a couple minutes ago he’d felt someone next to him.

They’d gotten up, and he’d been alone since then.

His mind was starting to clear up, though, and his thoughts were finally starting to resemble actual comprehensible English. Or maybe it was German. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he knew he was forming at least semi-coherent sentences regardless of language.

He managed to sit up slowly, vision swimming for a moment before he managed to shake away the blurriness. His surroundings didn’t make much sense to him, at first, because his brain was telling him he should be on the floor in an empty room. He should not be on a bed. The walls should not be decorated in any way, and especially not with band posters.

Finally it clicked - he was in Habit’s room. He was not in the weird attic room anymore - had he even been there in the first place? Had all of that really happened?

Sensations began to process as he sat there contemplating. His gut ached. His throat was sore. There was a distinct stinging pain in his leg. His head was throbbing… It had all happened, then. He’d been tortured by a literal Nazi. He’d been given hickeys by an old friend who had essentially destroyed any trust Noah had for him before that had even happened. He’d been forced to suck another guy’s _dick_ \- although, he’d admit, it hadn’t actually been _that_ bad, because Swain was pretty gentle and he’d kind of willingly opened his mouth for it, so…

He shook his head, finally looking down at his tattered clothes. He was still bloody, he noted, and obviously still dressed in the same clothes. Habit hadn’t bathed him or anything. He wasn’t exactly surprised. He was heavy and Habit was probably expecting him to wake up and do it himself.

For once the air didn’t feel too particularly chilly, but he did feel a breeze, which was weird. The woods outside were usually pretty still, so it couldn’t be coming from the window… Not to mention he didn’t think Habit would want to make the house any colder than it already was by opening a window. He turned to look at the doorway, and _was_ kind of surprised to see the door standing open with a box fan sitting in front of it, blowing cold air into the room.

He was about to maneuver himself out of the bed to look for Habit when, wouldn’t you know it, Habit walked up to the room.

They stared at each other for a moment. Habit looked like he was in shock (and kind of like he was sick), and Noah didn’t feel like there was any kind of emotion in his own face. He felt pretty blank. And then Habit seemed to snap out of whatever trance he’d put himself in and entered the room, coming right over to him. Noah instinctively braced himself for a punch or _some_ kind of violence, closing his eyes.

He did not receive it.

Instead, he was pulled into a tight hug. He stayed still for a long moment while Habit kept hold of him, then finally hugged back. Habit took a deep breath, and if it was shaky, Noah chose to ignore it.

“Noah, what the _fuck?”_ Habit asked, voice coming out in a weak hiss.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Noah replied.

Even as he said it, he knew it to be a lie, in some respects. He knew very well what happened, who did it, and, if only vaguely, where it happened. He was, however, clueless on why it had happened, and what the point had been… Or so he thought. The more he thought about it, the more answers seemed to materialize in his brain. Things he had no prior knowledge of but now knew quite intimately.

It was kind of trippy, if he was honest. But that was okay. That was totally fine. He could deal with it, he was fairly sure.

He pulled away after a couple more minutes and managed to scoot past Habit to get out of bed. Habit didn’t comment on it and merely watched as he picked his way out of the room. He didn’t follow him, and Noah was glad.

Things were so much clearer now. He understood why they’d done what they’d done to him, for the most part. He understood why they’d killed him, and he _knew_ he’d died. He was pretty sure he’d died more than once, actually. Which was fair, he supposed. Sometimes you just had to die upwards of twice so things could go correctly.

But speaking of things going correctly…

He should, technically, still be in the attic. Swain and Deadhead should be coming to get him right about now, and then the Observer would ‘explain’ to him what he needed to do. He’d meet the Administrator - Ol’ Stick-in-the-Mud - and he’d receive his first assignment. There was no telling what that was but something told him that Habit had spared himself a lot of pain by somehow getting him out of there. He’d have to thank Habit for that, actually.

He grabbed some clean clothes and forced himself into the bathroom to shower.

If he woke up here instead of the attic, what did that make him? He knew the other three were essentially gods serving a higher power, and personally he thought that didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but it was what it was. He guessed this made him a rogue god or something. He had, after all, been “created” to do exactly what they did, and he had no intention of doing that. He snorted as the old “things they did: that” meme popped into his head while he washed his hair.

Hm… Rogue god. Yeah, that sounded good. That sounded _great,_ actually. He was the rogue god.

But what was his name? If all the other gods had different names (because he was certain Swain and Deadhead were not those whackjobs’ real names), what was his? He thought about it for a long moment, rinsing his hair. Finally, like everything else, the answer came to him.

Firebrand. He was the Firebrand.

Everything else started to make more sense with that, too.

Deadhead and Swain - they were torturers. Deadhead went out of his way to be violent. He enjoyed bloodshed. Death was his end goal. Swain… Swain meant “lover” or “suitor” in German, and that was fairly consistent with how he acted. He was gentle, for the most part, and interested in the more… Intimate types of torture. Given the opportunity Noah was sure he’d have done more than made him suck his dick, which was fair, honestly. Who knew how long it’d been since he had sex?

That made Noah snort again. Knowing Swain it probably hadn’t actually been that long. He was probably just extremely horny.

But then there was the Observer - Kevin. The Observer did exactly as his name implied; he was not a torturer in the sense that Deadhead and Swain were. He was an observer, someone who usually sat back and watched. He could see everything. Well, not _everything,_ per se, but he saw a lot. He saw things he shouldn’t see. But Noah was very aware that he did not and could not see into he and Habit’s home. And he couldn’t see in to Noah’s parents’ home. That was why he’d come personally to check on them - he couldn’t do it any other way. The Observer was a passive force, overall. He sat back while everyone else worked.

And Noah, the Firebrand… He had a much more active role, and he knew it. A “firebrand” was a radical, someone with a passionate outlook on something, and all the guts needed to incite change. He figured that fit fairly well. Especially since he now had a quite passionate outlook on the idea of getting rid of the Administrator. After all - any being that advocated torturing and killing someone in order to get them to work for you was pretty skewed in the first place and needed to be set straight somehow. And sometimes the only way to set someone straight was to get rid of them.

He looked down at himself, watching the water swirl into the drain. A lot of it ran red or pink. He sighed and scrubbed each of his wounds as firmly as he could without hurting himself. He scrubbed the grime from the rest of his body. He rinsed his mouth in the running water. When all of the water ran clear and he no longer felt completely gross, he went about some of the less necessary maintenance of his body.

He felt so much better once he’d trimmed up his bush and cleaned up the rest of his body. For a moment he stood under the spray and just basked in the feeling of being clean and fresh. A new person, if he was honest. A newborn god shaking off the remains of his mortal shell. He turned off the water and took a deep breath, then let it out nice and slow.

He stepped out of the shower and began to dry himself off.

He was reminded, suddenly, that a “firebrand” was also a burning piece of wood. And the house had been awfully warm today… He sat the towel down before he finished drying off and focused hard on heating his body up. He watched in astonishment as water droplets sizzled and evaporated off of him. Lowering his body temperature to a manageable, closer to a real person level, he raised a hand.

With some concentration, he lit a fire in his palm. He watched the flames dance for a long moment before he flexed his hand and put the fire out. That was interesting…

He grabbed the towel and finished drying himself, then got dressed. The new clothes felt nice on his skin after wearing the tattered, crusty shirt and shredded pants as long as he had. Again he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Everything felt fresh and pristine, at the moment. Everything felt fine.

He removed himself from the bathroom and headed right past Habit to the storage room and into the forest out back. Mindful of the Observer, he stayed close to the house to remain within the black spot in the Observer’s vision. He could see the forest, but he couldn’t see past the first five feet of the clearing - Noah didn’t know how he knew that, but he didn’t care.

He heard Habit say something to him, but he didn’t really care what was being said, either. He just cared about testing his new abilities, and he _knew_ he had some. He rolled his head, then his shoulders, lifting his arms. A fire ignited along his biceps and spread up to his neck. He closed his eyes and concentrated on making it bigger, hotter, more dangerous. He felt the heat of it, but it did not hurt. He felt the flames lick across his skin, but it did not hurt.

He was the Firebrand. This was his power.

He snuffed the fire out and opened his eyes. Habit was talking again. He ignored him and sent a line of flames straight out across the ground of the clearing. He put it out before it reached the border of the Observer’s sight. He created a ring of fire around himself all at once, then put it out as well.

He knew, somehow, that this was no the only power he had. He did not just have fire on his side. He also had other special abilities. Plenty of them - but he knew that the fire would be his signature, and not just because of his name. Without thinking too hard about it he imagined himself twenty feet away from his current spot, and within a blink he was really there. He imagined himself in his room, and again found himself there in the blink of an eye.

He ported back out into the clearing, choosing not to test this power further. He was fairly sure he could go just about anywhere that he wanted with it. No need to test it just yet.

The other powers he had required help to test them, to his knowledge. He knew, already, though, that he had some very very good healing power on his side now. More than he’d had before, more than the house had given him. He had all _sorts_ of healing, if he wanted it. And if he didn’t he could leave his wounds open.

He knew he could still die, but he also knew he’d come back afterwards, and almost immediately at that. No more lying in bed unconscious for days at a time in order to come back. At most he’d be out for a few minutes before he locked himself back into his body.

He came back from his thoughts, at last, and noticed that Habit was no longer speaking. He turned toward where his voice had been coming from and found him merely glaring at him.

“Did you need something?”

The reply he received was Habit’s fist directly impacting his mouth. Blood bloomed on the inside of his lip, filling his mouth with the taste of copper and then the strange taste his blood always ended up having as of late. He stumbled back one or two steps, blinking at Habit, who looked every bit as irritated as his response made him out to be. There was a silence before he spoke.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll happily fucking say it again - what the _fuck,_ Noah?”

“I-”

“Do you know how fucking worried I was about you?” Habit cut him off, and Noah’s mouth went dry at the question, “Do you have any clue? Or were you too fucking wrapped up in your cool new powers to remember I existed?” Again, Noah made to reply, but was cut off, “Don’t answer that. Just…” Habit took a deep breath, “Don’t… Don’t ever fucking make me worry like that again. It’s goddamned unnatural. And fucking listen to me when I talk to you.”

Still somewhat startled, the response Noah gave surprised even him. He sounded entirely too calm for the turmoil he felt. “I’m sorry I worried you. Had I realized I was going to get kidnapped and murdered I’d have warned you in advance.” This time it was him who cut Habit off when he tried to reply, “For your information, however… It shouldn’t be much of a problem in the future.” He was quiet for a moment while Habit stared. “I do promise to do my best not to die again, regardless.”

Habit slowly nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” He took a breath, “So… What the fuck’s going on, exactly? When’d you learn how to set fires with your brain and teleport?”

This time, Noah’s feelings actually affected his response. He grinned, “You know, surprisingly enough, I’m glad you asked.”

* * *

Alex took a deep breath, looking at the items he’d packed. It was still early, and so far no one else was awake. That was good. He needed to get out of here, and he was pretty sure he was finally ready. He threw his backpack over his shoulders, did the same with his duffel bag, and paused to pop his knuckles nervously. He already felt bad about abandoning Jeff like this, especially after what had happened with their parents earlier in the year, but…

Well. It’d been eight months. Jeff could deal. He’d been dealing all this time and he could damn well deal after Alex was gone too.

At least he wasn’t going to be gone forever. One day he might come back, and at that point, sure, he’d be in deep shit, but chances were he’d be his own man by then and Jeff wouldn’t be able to do anything.

He took a deep breath, picked up his phone, and texted Noah.

[8:56am] _I’m leaving now. Leaving my phone here. Don’t text._

He waited for it to deliver, then deleted his copy of the message from his phone. He’d already deleted everything else that alluded toward him going to ‘visit’ him. The only way they’d be able to track him down would be to check his call history, but even then they couldn’t be sure that he’d done anything but called Noah once in the past month. He hoped and prayed they wouldn’t be able to find what his texts had said. He wasn’t really sure about that being possible or not.

He shook his head and threw the phone onto the bed. Deep breath, adjust the straps on his bags…

He left the room, padded downstairs, and walked out the front door.

Another deep breath on the front step. Swallowed hard. Straightened his back. Marched off toward the edge of town with a purpose. He considered taking his bike, but that would make it too obvious that he was planning to be gone for a long time right off the bat. He only went biking when he wanted to get somewhere far away quickly, and if he was gone for more than three hours with his bike and without his phone, Jeff would know right away something was up.

Within the next twenty minutes, he was at the edge of town. He paused, yet again, and thought very hard. Was he certain he wanted to do this?

… Yes. Yes he was. If he wasn’t, he wouldn't have gotten this far in the first place. He wouldn’t have researched his possible routes, possible means of getting there, and good places to camp. He wouldn’t have systematically stolen food from the pantry until he had a couple weeks worth of snacks to take with him.

No turning back now, anyway - Jeff would be up soon. If he walked in with bags, Jeff would realize what he was trying to do. He’d want to go with him. And he couldn’t have that.

Adequately assured, he started walking again.


	23. New Arrival

One week, fourteen hours, and six minutes.

Alex wetted his lips with his tongue. Adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, now considerably lighter than it once was. His feet practically dragged on the pavement. The sun had long since gone down, and traffic had slowed down considerably. No one had so much as looked his way since he arrived in Jacksonville the night before, and that had just been the person he’d caught a ride from sending one last sympathetic look at him while they drove away.

One week, fourteen hours, and seven minutes.

The sign loomed before him:

_WELCOME TO FORT MYERS_

_CITY OF PALMS_

Vague relief. He was almost there.

One week, fourteen hours, and eight minutes.

He knew no one was looking at him, and yet he felt watched. He’d felt watched ever since Richmond. He could feel empty sockets staring, watching his every move, waiting to pounce and then-

One week. Fourteen hours. Nine minutes.

Deep breath.

Nothing was watching. He was fine. He was alone and he was fine. His stomach grumbled; he didn’t stop to pull food from his bag. He was fine. He hadn’t eaten since Goldston, over two days ago now. That was fine. He hadn’t slept since Columbia. That was fine too. He could make it to Noah’s house and eat there. He could sleep there, maybe.

No, no he couldn’t.  He couldn’t sleep there. He couldn’t sleep _anywhere._ Not safely. It was always there. It was always watching, always waiting for the right moment to-

One week, fourteen hours, eleven minutes.

If he didn’t concentrate on the time, if he didn’t stare at his watch, he’d get lost in paranoia. He’d keep jumping at shadows instead of concentrating on his goal. He’d never make it to Noah’s house because he’d be stuck here on the side of the road having a mental breakdown. And that’d get the cops called on him for sure.

He could see the headlines in the newspaper already:

_“TEEN BREAKS DOWN ON SIDE OF BUSY ROAD, CRYING ABOUT EYELESS THING THAT IS GOING TO GET HIM. AUTHORITIES BELIEVE HE MAY BE ON DRUGS.”_

Against all odds, the thought wrenched a laugh from him. It hurt to laugh. It hurt to breathe. At this point it hurt to do anything, but he kept doing most of it anyway. He could collapse in agony and cry when he got to Noah’s house. No sooner. He’d only be even remotely safe once he got there. Once he got to Habit. Habit could help him.

One week, fourteen hours, and fifteen minutes.

 _God,_ that number felt surreal. Had he really left home a week ago? Had he really been walking and hitching rides for a week? Had he _really_ stolen a bike two days ago in North Carolina and then ditched it on the side of the road in South Carolina after already being on the road for four days? He had, hadn’t he? He’d done all of that. He’d left Jeff alone in New Jersey with no note, no clue as to where he’d gone unless Jeff looked back six months into their conversations and dug up the bit about Habit being able to help him. Even then, though, Jeff wouldn’t have a sure idea of where to look. Nobody knew where Habit and Noah were.

Nobody except him.

He looked at his watch again to put himself back on track - one week, fourteen hours, and twenty-one minutes. Time sure flew when you overthought everything, didn’t it? He checked his surroundings. Noah’s house had to be around here somewhere.

He checked the poorly written (shaky. He’d been crying when he wrote it, fresh out of a nightmare) and badly faded address on his palm, then the nearest street sign. He was close. He was really close.

He managed to coerce his body into moving a little faster. He scanned the houses and glanced at his watch.

One week, fourteen hours, and twenty-three minutes. Twenty-five minutes. Thirty minutes. Thirty-one minutes. Thirty-two.

Noah’s house appeared in front of him, halfway up the block, Habit’s car parked in the driveway. There were no lights on, but that was fine. Something told him that didn’t matter.

He broke into a full sprint down the street and up the driveway to the front door. His legs protested vehemently. They almost gave out, but he stayed on his feet through sheer force of will. His lungs burned. His back ached.

He knocked on the front door, and he knocked _loud_ and he knocked _fast._ Sure, it was damn near midnight now. Sure, he might wake a neighbor. Sure, whoever answered the door might be kind of irritated with him. Did he care? No. No he didn’t. He didn’t give one single shit, because all he cared about was getting into this house and being _safe_ and away from that thing and-

The door swung open, and before he could even greet him, Noah was ushering him in, eyes lingering on his sunken in cheeks and the dark circles beneath his eyes. There were lights on in here, which didn’t make sense, but he didn’t feel like questioning it. Habit was on the couch, reclined like he owned the place. Noah seemed uneasy. Alex barely managed to make it to one of the chairs before his legs went out from under him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep, deep breath. His nerves were jumping, making every little tiny thing feel like too much. He steadied himself the best he could, forced his arms to work, and opened his eyes back up. He carefully pulled his bags off his shoulders and sat them on the floor, looking to his hosts.

Noah still seemed worried. Alex remembered his touch had been very, very warm. It had been nice. He was so cold… And Habit looked like he was trying to remain impartial, but he was giving him a very critical looking-at.

Alex knew his clothes were dirty. He knew he looked like shit. He looked grimy. His hair was greasy. His limbs were trembling and he was paler than he’d ever been in his life. He’d lost weight and he could _feel_ it. It didn’t feel good.

Shakily he unzipped his duffel bag and dug through the contents until he reached the food at the bottom of the bag. He retrieved a pack of Pop-Tarts and only spared a brief glance at the flavor before tearing it open. He took a bite straight out of it like some sort of savage. Usually he’d break off pieces as he saw fit and pop them into his mouth, but not this time. Damn. He was hungrier than he’d thought he was.

“Christ.” Habit said, “Hungry, kiddo?”

“I haven’t eaten since Goldston, South Carolina.” He informed him between chewing and taking another bite, “I’ve done a lot of walking since then.”

The look of horror on both of their faces was objectively funny.

“Chill, it’s only been, like… A day. Maybe two. I was kind of busy trying not to fall asleep.”

Habit shook his head in disbelief, “How can you be such a smart kid… And be so stupid?”

Usually he’d be offended, but he’d passed the point of caring about 25 hours ago. So he just shrugged, “I’m fueled by paranoia and lack of sleep, Habit. Bad decisions are inevitab… Inevitabluh.” He sighed and took a break before trying again. “Inevitable. There. God. Do you know how hard it is to talk after like thirty one hours with no sleep?”

“Unfortunately.” Noah replied, around the same time Habit laughed and said, “Boy do I.”

“You should sleep,” Was the next thing Noah said, “You could take my bed until-”

“No. No no no. Nuh-uh. Not happening.” Alex found himself saying immediately, shaking his head rapidly, “Nope. I’m not sleeping. Not if I can help it. I’m not dealing with that thing unless I have to. I will literally _cry_ and I’ve done enough of that lately.”

Why was it so much easier for him to talk when he was rambling? That didn’t seem to make sense. Shouldn’t he stumble over his words _worse?_

Whatever.

“Okay,” Noah said, instead of anything that Alex expected. “I was making a suggestion.” He lifted his arms in a very mild surrender. “I can’t and won’t make you sleep if you don’t want to. I understand how terrifying this shit must be for you.”

Some of his growing panic faded. “Thanks, Noah.”

“No problem.”

Habit popped his head out of the kitchen, “Hey, Firebread. I need to talk to you.”

Alex had a lot of questions about that, but he chose to keep his mouth shut while Noah rolled his eyes and trudged over. That answered one question, but raised others. Alex didn’t have the mental capacity to think too hard on it right now.

“Firebread? Really?” Noah asked once he arrived in the kitchen, and Habit laughed entirely too cheerily. “You are such a child.”

Habit stuck his tongue out at him, only further driving this point home, then sobered up with a deep breath. “We’ve got a bit of an issue. We’re kind of running out of…” He lowered his voice and made a pointed gesture toward the deep freeze. “ _Meat._ Frozen or otherwise.”

Noah cringed. That _was_ an issue. “How much do we have left?”

“Enough for maybe three more days if we keep on like we’ve been.” Habit said. “A week if I cut back on my consumption of it significantly.”

Noah cringed again. “That’s… Not good. We don’t really have a whole lot of viable options for getting more.”

“I realize that. That’s why I called it an issue.” Habit fidgeted. “Even less viable options with the squirt here. We gotta be awful sneaky about any new meat with him around. Or just straight up tell him we frequently consume human flesh.” A nervous-sounding laugh escaped him, incredibly uncharacteristic but entirely understandable. “Yeah, cuz both of those situations will go over _so_ well.”

He laid a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Chill. It’s alright, dude. We’ll figure something out.”

“Like what?” Habit deadpanned, gaze surprisingly icy.

“I dunno yet.” Noah admitted. “But we’re smart. We can figure it out. Maybe we could just grab somebody off the street and…” He trailed. “No. Bad idea.”

That got Habit’s gaze to warm a little, a laugh bubbling up in his throat. “Yeah. _Really_ bad idea, babes.”

Noah tried to ignore how the nickname made him feel and raised a brow. He didn’t question it aloud, but he felt it was pretty obvious what he was asking about. Only one part of that statement didn’t make sense.

Habit laughed, whole-hearted and far more genuine than the last couple that had escaped him. “Just wanted to see how you’d react. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Of course he didn’t mean anything by it. Why would he? Habit wasn’t remotely interested in him past using him as a torture doll and a fuck toy, and occasionally a cuddle buddy. He wanted to be friends. Friends with _benefits,_ nowadays, but still - he didn’t want to be in a relationship with him. Noah already knew that.

He wished it didn’t hurt so much to have it confirmed yet again, though.

He already knew, so why did it still bother him? Shouldn’t he be getting over this stupid crush already? One would think his priorities would be a little straighter after literally _dying,_ right? But, no, of course they weren’t. They were still just as skewed as ever. His annoying crush on his housemate was still high on the list of things he thought about often, and the thing after them was pretty low on it.

“Yeah,” He said, instead of any of the things he was thinking, “Didn’t think you did. I’d have to worry for your mental health if you actually meant something by it. After all - who would want to date _me?”_ Noah snorted. The phrase didn’t hurt; he was used to making fun of himself. He was used to talking about how hopeless romance was for him, among other things, even if he hadn’t had to do it much since moving in with Habit.

He expected Habit to laugh and agree with him. Maybe shake his head and snort. But he didn’t.

He gave him a long, hard look, then said, “Don’t say that. I’m sure there’s somebody out there interested in you. You’re actually a pretty great guy, alcoholism and being a fucking god aside.”

“You say that like I’ve actually been drinking the past six months.”

“You just haven’t because we don’t have access to alcohol.” Habit reminded him. “But don’t change the subject.”

“I was just making note of that.” Noah shrugged, “It’s not like you to compliment me, anyway. I had to say something to feel less weird about it.”

Habit gave him another long look. “I give credit where it’s due. And you deserve credit for still being a pretty great guy despite living with me and going through Hell.”

Noah didn’t know how to reply to that, so he didn’t. They were both silent for a while before Noah finally cleared his throat and coughed. “So. About the meat issue?”

Habit sighed. “As unlikely as it is, I think we’ve just gotta wait and hope to fuck that somebody gives us another delivery, as unlikely as it is.”

“The Observer sent us the last one.” Noah frowned. “So I think ‘unlikely’ is putting it pretty mildly.”

“I’m trying to be optimistic.” He shrugged, “But there’s not much else we can feasibly do, is there? No matter who we target, someone’s gonna eventually notice people going missing. Doesn’t matter if they’re homeless or runaways like us or whatever. Someone will notice, and when people start noticing, people will start remembering seeing suspicious shit. And that suspicious shit could lead the police right to us.”

“We could get a few months of food out of it, even if someone did eventually catch on… But you’re right. We can’t do that. Especially since this house is the only place we’re even remotely safe.”

Habit nodded, “Speaking of, think we should warn the squirt about the Germans and your crazy friend?”

“I somewhat doubt Swain is actually German considering the way he spoke and how surprisingly vanilla he was.” Noah grumbled, “But yeah. We probably should. Even if we have to leave some shit out, we should warn him.” He paused for a moment, “And start taking precautions to keep them the fuck out of here.”

“Obviously they can get in,” Habit noted, “And Fuckface McFour-Eyes can teleport, so how the hell are we supposed to do that?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet, but you can bet your ass I’ve been thinking about it.”

Habit just shook his head. “Yeah, whatever. We’ll brainstorm later, when I can concentrate. I need something to eat real quick and then I’ll start cutting back the best I can. You’re still fairly unfazed by the hunger pains, right?”

“Fairly. I don’t get them near as often as you do, at least.”

“So if we cut the meat almost entirely out of _your_ diet…” Habit trailed, then began to mumble something, chewing on his bottom lip. “I can manage just snacking for the most part when the pains hit, and you don’t get them as often or near as bad as I do, so if I cut back to just snacking when the pains hit and you only eat some when you need to we might manage to make it last long enough to find someone else to chew on.”

“And how long, exactly, is that?” Noah raised a brow.

“Month and a half, tops. And that’s if we -mostly me - just eat the bare minimum to keep the pains in check.” Habit’s reply was immediate, but he was obviously not happy with this calculation.

Noah nodded. “Alright. I can handle that, I think. And if all else fails we’ll just go find somebody and bring them back while Alex is asleep and… Y’know. Slaughter them like a lamb. We’ll still have to stretch the meat as far as we can, but we’ll have some.”

“That reminds me.” Habit’s mood flipped like the flick of a lightswitch. “Aren’t you only supposed to eat Kosher meats? Stuff that’s had all the blood drained out prior to butchering?”

“I’m supposed to, but that doesn’t mean I do. I’m not quite _that_ dedicated to my religion. I just avoid pork. I’ll eat Kosher if it’s around for me to eat, but other than that...” He shrugged. “It’s not a necessity for me. Although most other Jews would probably call me a heretic for not keeping Kosher in the home, I really don’t care.”

“Fair enough.” Habit replied, as if he really didn’t have anything else to say to that.

Another silence.

Habit sighed again. “Alright. Let’s warn the Squirt, get the spare room prepped for him, and start praying for a miracle.”

“Amen to that.” Noah mumbled.

They returned as a unit, as was often their custom, to the living room to speak to Alex… Only to find that the boy had fallen asleep curled up in the chair he was in. They shared a look, then shook their heads. They wouldn’t wake him up. He needed his rest.

Instead, Noah grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over him. Habit removed the Pop-Tart packet from his hand. Alex curled tighter in his sleep, pulling the blanket closer and nuzzling into the arm of the chair. And, of course, they watched him for a moment to be sure he was sleeping soundly. How could they not? He was their responsibility now, and if they could keep the nightmares at bay in any way they intended to.

He did not stir further, but Habit chose to stay in the living room while Noah went to go prep the guest room. For the time being, he did not pull all of Alex’s things from his room in New Jersey. He didn’t want to startle anyone yet. So instead he focused on merely bringing in a bed. He didn’t care where it came from. He didn’t care if he was just popping one into existence.

A full size mattress appeared against one wall. He wasn’t sure what color sheets Alex preferred, so he went with blue for the moment. Like the bed, they merely popped into existence, already set up as they needed to be.

He figured that Alex might want some extra comfort, so the next things he worked on adding were a big, fluffy comforter and about twelve fairly fluffy pillows. Was it overkill? Absolutely. Would Alex appreciate it? Probably. And if not Noah could get rid of them just as easily as he’d gotten them. Or he could keep them as spares. Win-win.

Still. He found himself thinking hard as he added other simple things to the room, like a lamp. He found himself thinking about the future. About how all of this was going to turn out. He wasn’t sure if the ending he, Alex, and Habit were going to get would be a good one. He wasn’t sure if it would even qualify as a neutral ending, or if an end was even in sight for them.

All he knew was that the future was going to be pretty damn interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I notice the "as unlikely as it is" thing happening twice in the same sentence. Yes, it is intentional. Habit's a tired boy who's not so great at English sometimes, just like everyone else.


	24. Delivery!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Sorry about the chapter being cut off randomly near the end, I dunno what happened there. It's just been one issue after the other with this chapter tbh, but w/e, it's fixed now.

Three weeks.

Alex had been living with them for three weeks. It was the middle of December. Hanukkah was happening, and Noah was too lazy to observe it - it wasn’t like he had anybody to celebrate with, anyway. Habit and Alex didn’t really understand the traditions and to be honest he didn’t either. He didn’t have the energy to seek out another, older Jewish person to explain to all of them exactly what they were supposed to do.

He knew the thing with the menorah, obviously, and some of the smaller stuff, but he wasn’t really usually one of the people who helped with preparations during Hanukkah. He was told to sit back and stay out of the way, most years, and he was content to do so.

But, regardless, Alex had been living with them for three weeks, and so far Noah had lied to Jeff on eight separate occasions about it. He just _kept_ asking if he’d seen him, if he’d heard from him. Noah always said no.

Habit had been doing more or less the same thing.

The less people knew that Alex was with them, the better, after all.

Speaking of Jeff and Habit, though, Noah found that recently Habit was getting back into the groove of being social. He was messaging people frequently, he was back in touch with Evan, and he and Lyra were on pretty good terms once again. As if they’d ever been on bad terms to begin with. It almost made Noah snort.

It probably would have if he didn’t notice the fact that Habit was still kind of hung up on her, now that he was in frequent contact with her again.

He ignored it the best he could, though. It wasn’t like he’d expected Habit to get over her so easily. He’d left a lot of things unattended to with her, anyway. He needed to get everything sorted out before he could get over her in any capacity.

And it wasn’t like it mattered how quick he got over her, since he wasn’t interested in Noah anyway.

He was shaken from these thoughts, blessedly, by a knock on the door. The sound made him jump. He’d have been somewhat embarrassed by that if it hadn’t made Habit and Alex jump just as high. Alex’s eyes were the size of saucers, focused fearfully on the front door.

Noah had long since stopped questioning his jumpiness.

He got up before either of the others could respond much further. The sound repeated, a little more frantic than the last time. He made his way at a leisurely pace to the door. There was some minor satisfaction in the feeling of panic permeating from whoever was on the other side of the door.

When he opened it, he was surprised to see that the person knocking was knocking from the forest.

“ _Please!”_ The young man stammered. “It’s coming, I need to - can I come in, _please?!”_

Noah chose to stay silent as he stepped aside and allowed the guy to enter. He looked to be about Alex’s age. Maybe closer to Jeff’s. His long sleeves just barely covered the dirty bandages wrapped around his wrists, and he had the same wild look in his eyes that Alex did.

Another victim of that thing, then.

He quietly gazed out into the forest for a moment before closing the door and turning to the teen. He looked fidgety, gaze flickering around anxiously. Noah’s mind picked out the details he needed from thin air, but he was getting used to that happening.

The kid was 17, going on 18. His name was Aiden Wells. He’d been on the run from that thing for damn near a year, and was running on empty. He’d found the house mostly by chance, running through a forest he had no memory of, but the beast had told him there were people who could make his suffering go away. It had told him to seek out the only house in the woods.

It never told him if he’d survive the ordeal or not, and Noah thought that was fitting. He could see the looks Habit was giving the shockingly healthy looking boy. The half-calculating, half-hungry look, and Noah knew what it meant. He knew very well - Habit had an idea of what to do about his current shortage of meat. And, if he was honest, Noah had the exact same idea.

“Here, sit down.” Noah said, placing one gentle hand on Aiden’s shoulder and steering him toward an armchair.

Without being asked, Alex surrendered the blanket from around his shoulders and offered it to Noah, who in turn offered it to Aiden. Aiden accepted it with only a hint of suspicion. The feeling appeared overpowered by the gratitude he felt as he carefully wrapped the blanket around his own shoulders.

His nervous eyes lingered on Alex’s bandaged arms.

When he looked up toward Alex’s face, Alex just gave him a weak, fairly bitter smile. Some of the suspicion and tenseness melted away from Aiden’s body.

“How long?” He asked, voice soft and sounding much more calm than it had when he’d arrived.

“A few months.” Alex answered, “And for you?”

“Same.” He sighed. “Can… Can you help?”

Alex shook his head, and Aiden seemed to deflate. He perked up again when Alex opened his mouth and said, “But Noah and Habit-” He motioned at the older males, “I think they can.”

Aiden looked to them. Habit had the sense to school his expression into a neutral one as he gave a half-sarcastic wave. “Sup.”

Noah merely hummed. “Speaking of, Habit, I need to talk to you.”

Habit hopped up without any further prompting, and they left the younger males alone to talk quietly about whatever they’d connected on.

Before Noah had even turned to face Habit, the other male was speaking. “Okay, so, I know this is probably a really shitty thing to think, especially since Alex seems to like the guy already, but we _really_ need meat, and-”

“I know.” Noah cut him off. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Habit remained silent, giving him an uncharacteristic deer-in-the-headlights look.

“I’m not going to try and convince you it’s a bad idea, because it’s really not. But if we do this, we have to tell Alex what’s going on.”

Habit’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Wait, you’re supporting this idea?”

“You need your strength.” Noah shrugged, “If we have to kill a few people who need our help to do it, then so be it. Besides - we’d be doing what that thing promised him we would.”

“What did it promise him?” Habit didn’t question how he knew what it had told him. He’d pretty much gathered already that Noah knew a good deal of things he shouldn’t.

“It said we’d take his suffering away.” Noah quirked a brow, lips curving upwards slightly. “I’d say killing him qualifies, wouldn’t you?”

Habit’s entire demeanor seemed to change in an instant. He got jittery. Excited. It was almost cute. “Well, I mean, it’s not... It’s not called putting someone out of their misery for nothing.” He agreed, for once not seeming to care that he’d stumbled over his words.

For the sake of not ruining the mood, Noah didn’t bring it up.

“But how are we gonna do it? And should we really tell Alex?” Habit was off on a tangent, now, so Noah just went along with listening. “Well, not telling him’s a bad idea, actually. If he finds out on his own it could be really fucking bad for us. Or really fucking bad for him. Or both. But if we tell him and he freaks, what the hell are we supposed to do? I just can’t imagine this going well no matter what we do if I’m being entirely honest here, so what are we…” He trailed off and looked to Noah, half-shrugging with an expression that said exactly how lost he was on this subject.

“The best thing to do is just tell him and keep praying for a miracle.”

“I guess you’re right - and, hey, it worked with the food thing, didn’t it?” Habit joked lightly.

His mood was bouncing around a little quicker than Noah could keep up with today.

Noah rolled his eyes instead of addressing it. “Well. I guess we should probably lure him into the basement if we wanna get rid of him. And do it before Alex gets too attached.”

Habit nodded his agreement. “How will we get him down there, though?”

“I could say we have it as a spare bedroom or something.” Noah shrugged. “Alex knows better than to question anything that comes out of my mouth, by now, so hopefully he won’t draw any attention to the fact that I hate the basement with enough of a burning passion that it’s definitely not set up.”

“ _Burning_ passion, you say?” Habit teased.

Noah’s cheeks heated. “Shut it.”

For once Habit did as he was told almost immediately, and the two of them returned to the living room.

“So,” Habit spoke before Noah got the chance, “How long were you plannin’ on stayin’ with us, kiddo?”

“Um… I guess as long as it takes for you to help? I don’t really have anywhere else to…”

“Right. You’re gonna need a room then.” Habit nodded, then looked to Noah. “We’ve got the basement set up as a spare, don’t we?”

 _Habit, I could kiss you_ , was the first thought Noah had in reply. What a perfect set up! What amazing improv! _Man_ he was gay for Habit. “Yeah,” He said, “Just put the finishing touches on it the other day.” He turned to Aiden. “You wanna come check it out, see if it needs anything to make your stay more comfortable?”

“Oh. Uh… Sure.” Aiden smiled weakly and got up. He offered the blanket back to Alex, who accepted it happily.

“Sorry about the chill.” Noah said conversationally as he led the younger male toward the basement stairs. “Habit hasn’t fixed the thermostat yet.”

Habit laughed, “Shit, I knew there was something I was supposed to be doing - looks like I gotta come down with you.”

Noah’s eyes flicked to Alex. The boy looked somewhat suspicious, but if he had any inkling at all what was happening, he made no move to try and stop it. He just sat in the chair he’d long since claimed as his, blanket wrapped around him tightly.

“Looks that way.” Noah said.

The way down the stairs was kind of difficult without a light, but Noah didn’t want to chance the kid figuring out too soon that the room wasn’t set up at all. There wasn’t enough natural light for him to figure it out just yet… And Habit was smart enough to shut the basement door behind them.

“It’s, um… Really dark down here.” Aiden noted nervously.

“There’s no overhead light,” Noah said sympathetically. “But there’s plenty of lamps - we just don’t have them on since we don’t really use the basement.”

“Oh.” Aiden sounded relieved. “Okay, that makes sense.”

They were about in the middle of the room now. Aiden tensed again. Noah could almost hear his thoughts, he was thinking so loud. Ha, and he’d always thought that was an exaggeration.

“I… Don’t see any bedroom stuff.” He said, voice shaking.

“Yeah.” Noah turned to him. “Sorry about this kiddo.”

There was enough light for Noah to make out the look of half-confusion, half-horror on Aiden’s face. The look only lasted another couple seconds, though, because it was quickly replaced by one of pure shock as the blade of a kitchen knife peeked out of his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was blood.

Some part of Noah purred with pride at the terror that surged up in the younger male in response to this turn of events.

“I…” He managed to choke out.

Habit shushed him, placing a hand on his shoulder for better leverage as he pulled the knife back out. “Just stay quiet, kiddo. It’ll all be over soon.”

“Why are you doing this?” Aiden’s voice was small, which just made the crack halfway through more pronounced. His hands went to the wound on his chest, pressing hard. Trying to stop the bleeding.

“It’s nothing personal.” Habit assured him. “This will be beneficial for everyone involved in the end - you get away from that thing, and we get what we need to learn how to save Alex from it.”

“It’ll… It’ll help Alex?” Aiden met Noah’s eyes, asking for confirmation.

Noah was mostly impressed he was still managing to stand on his own power and speak so clearly when most people would be choking on their blood. He guessed the guy had probably taken enough hits from whatever was after him and Alex that he was used to severe blood loss and pain. And, hey, maybe Habit hadn’t hit anything that would make him choke on his own blood past the first flood of liquid.

“Yeah.” He confirmed, “It’ll help Alex.”

“I…” Aiden swallowed hard, then coughed, splattering blood onto the floor. It would have gotten on Noah as well had Aiden not quickly covered his mouth with an already bloody hand, doubling over slightly. “I know that I… I don’t really have a choice.” He said, finally, “But if it’ll help Alex… I won’t fight it.”

“You’re being an awfully good sport.” Habit noted as he grabbed him by the shoulder again, forcing him to straighten up. “Considering you’re about to die.”

“Death is worth it to make sure no one else has to go through this.”

Nothing more was said as Habit turned Aiden toward him. He backed him up toward Noah, who calmly grabbed the younger male’s biceps to keep him still. And then, as Habit had promised, it was over soon after, with a slit throat that made Noah’s own burn in unfortunate sympathy and understanding.

Sure, Aiden was still alive for a few minutes, but he kept his word - he didn’t fight. He let it happen, leaning on Noah for support and coughing once or twice while trying to swallow. Noah guided him through it softly, telling him to just keep breathing for a little while, and to focus on nothing but his voice. It seemed to work, as the racing thoughts calmed and he relaxed further.

Within the next five minutes, he was limp in Noah’s arms.

Habit, despite the lack of actual exertion or struggle, was breathing hard, eyes on Noah.

“Holy shit.” Habit finally said.

Noah hummed in question, maneuvering the cold corpse in his grasp onto the floor.

“I-I didn’t realize that killing somebody would give me that kind of adrenaline rush - all I did was stab him in the chest and slit his throat! Why am I jittery from that?”

“Power trip.” Noah suggested with a shrug. “You _did_ just kill someone. How vanilla it was hardly matters when it’s your first.”

Habit nodded to himself. “Yeah. Yeah I guess that makes sense. But holy _shit,_ Noah.”

Noah rolled his eyes good-naturedly while Habit bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. “I suppose we should go tell Alex, now. Unless you want to stay down here to skin and butcher him.”

Habit shot a glance around, “Nah. Let’s just… Let’s tell Alex and get it over with.” He paused. “Maybe… Actually yeah, no, you should do it. You’ve got less blood on you, and, you know, you’re not currently giddy about having slit somebody’s throat.”

“Yeah.” Noah agreed. “Just watch the body and try not to pop a boner.”

The look Habit glanced downward in the gloom told Noah that Habit had already failed one of those objectives quite spectacularly. He chose not to remark on it, and in fact decided he was going to ignore it entirely until it became _his_ problem to deal with, when or if that happened. Yeah. That was a good idea.

He picked his way back across the basement floor and paused at the bottom of the stairs, a thought having occurred to him.

“And get that floodlight set up while you’re at it. I get the feeling there’ll be more where he came from and you’re going to need an increasingly larger killfloor to sate your appetite for violence.” Before Habit could respond he continued, “Larger killfloor means more complex kills. More complex kills require a little more light.”

“Well… Yeah, you’re right, nevermind.”

He rolled his eyes and continued up the stairs. He paused once again at the top to regard the blood on his shirt with a critical eye in the light leaking through the crack under the door. It wasn’t too big of a spot - just a smear from where he’d held Aiden, really. That was fine.

He opened the door and stepped up into the main house, striding back toward the living room.

Alex was exactly where he’d left him, still watching the door. Still curled up in the blanket on the chair. His eyes gravitated immediately to the blood smear. They widened. He scooted back further in the chair, huge, terrified eyes meeting Noah’s.

“N-noah?” He asked, alarmed.

“Chill, kiddo, you’re not in any danger.” Noah placated, “I’d go change my shirt but I need to talk to you right now. Also, before I go any further, I’m very sorry about what happened just now.”

Alex’s expression did not change as he seemed to curl in on himself tighter. “Wha… What do you need to talk to me about?”

“What happened just now. And why it happened.” Noah explained.

Alex swallowed hard. Noah watched his Adam’s apple bob. There was a tense silence.

“Okay.” Alex finally said, voice still trembling. “Go for it.”

So Noah went for it. He explained as calmly as he could, giving Alex the rundown of the situation. He told him about the appearance of their “Gift,” and the ominous but not so difficult to understand hint

, and then delved into what had happened after that. Alex listened with rapt attention, his terror fading into interest and mild disgust. Noah skipped over most of his torture and summed it up as getting captured and fucked with, with the “Oh, and also I died,” thrown in as an afterthought. The terror returned, but this time it was obviously not terror _at_ Noah, but _for_ him, which was sweet.

Then he addressed the waning supplies of meat, calling back to the hunger pains Habit experienced and that he sometimes was unlucky enough to experience as well. And before he even got to explain the thing with Aiden, a look of understanding crossed Alex’s face.

“You killed him. And that’s why you did it - for the meat.” He surmised.

“That’s exactly it.” Noah agreed. “But to be fair we did what was promised - we took his suffering away.”

Alex chewed on his lip in response to that, and once again Noah could very nearly hear the racing thoughts. There was another uncomfortable silence. Alex’s lip began to bleed from the chewing.

“Okay.” Alex finally said. “I can see why this is… I see why it’s a thing that has to happen. And I’m not… I’m not saying I’m totally okay with it, but I don’t see how I’d go about stopping you. Or why I would aside from the moral dilemma.” He paused. “And I guess… I mean… I’ll have to get used to it eventually so I - _will you show me?”_

“... Will I show you?” Noah tilted his head before he could prevent the unconscious action. “Show you what?”

Alex made some sort of vaguely distressed noise and motioned toward the basement door. Noah struggled to piece together what he meant.

“Oh.” He managed after a moment, “You mean show you the body? Or what we have to do to prepare it?”

“... Both?” Alex suggested weakly. “I think I’ll need the experience. I can’t very well avoid the subject entirely, can I?”

“I suppose not.” Noah agreed. “Sure, I’ll show you. Or rather, Habit will. He does all the prep stuff.”

Alex nodded, looking a little green.

Noah was actually quite proud of him once it was all said and done, though, because, throughout everything, including the skinning and other more unpleasant parts, Alex paid attention. He watched carefully even when his stomach was obviously flipping in his gut. Even through the not exactly infrequent dry-heaves, he watched. He kept his last meal in his stomach through what seemed to be pure force of will and he managed by the end to look a little less sick.

Then came the disposal of the remaining pieces of the body, which Alex chose to watch as well, and seemed worlds less disgusted by.

Still, he stood by and watched, with the paint mask Noah had provided him with over his mouth and nose, as the remains of someone that he could have been friends with were dissolved in acid. He didn’t even dry heave, then. He just swallowed frequently and kept his arms crossed over his abdomen.

The true pride, however, came when Habit prepared dinner for himself from the new meat. He offered Alex a bite. Held the fork out for him with a raised brow.

And Alex took the fork.

And he ate the bite of meat he’d been offered.

And he didn’t so much as gag.


	25. Back Home, Part Three

Jeff was pacing.

Still.

He’d been pacing for going on six hours straight now, and showed no signs of stopping. He couldn’t help it. He paced when he got to thinking and he paced until he was done. And he was thinking in circles, so there was no way to know if he was going to stop. The only way he’d stop before exhaustion overtook him would be if he got some sort of closure, and he wasn’t going to get it, and he knew that.

So he kept pacing.

Alex had been missing for a little over a month. He’d taken clothes with him when he left, and now that Jeff had really been looking there was a significant amount of food missing from the pantry. It was fairly likely Alex had taken that with him too.

But he hadn’t taken his phone. And he hadn’t taken his bike.

But he’d taken his laptop and laptop supplies and a sleeping bag and his little first aid kit from the dresser drawer and so many other things that he’d need if he ran away. And the things taken and left behind told of a serious amount of planning being put into his departure.

All the missing food and the fact that Jeff hadn’t noticed meant that Alex had been goddamned systematic about it. Leaving his phone meant he didn’t want to chance being contacted or tracked via that contact. Leaving his bike meant he’d wanted to mislead Jeff, make him think he’d be coming back soon. And both - no,  _ all _ \- of those things spoke to how serious Alex was about disappearing. And they fucking broke Jeff’s heart on levels he couldn’t articulate.

He knew what Alex was doing. He knew who he was going to see.

The issue was that Alex had obviously  _ intentionally _ gone back on his word and left alone, and Jeff had  _ no fucking clue _ where he was. He’d already asked Habit and Noah, but both of them had denied seeing him. He felt like they were lying -  _ no, _ he  _ knew _ they were lying. But he didn’t know where they were, so there wasn’t much he could do about it.

And if Alex was with them, at least he knew he was safe.

But that didn’t stop him from worrying. That didn’t stop him from being absolutely livid that they’d lie to him.

And yet, at the same time, he knew why they were lying to him. He knew that they knew that if he knew for certain that Alex was with them he’d try to find them. And he also knew that would be a bad idea. Who knew where they were? Who knew how long it would take to find them?

Chances were he’d get himself hurt trying to find them, which was probably why Alex hadn’t wanted him involved. Along with whatever had scratched him all those months ago… He spared a glance at the scars on his arm and shuddered.

All the same, that Alex had run off alone bothered him. It scared him. And knowing he was almost definitely with Habit and Noah only alleviated some of the worry because while he knew they were more than capable of taking care of his brother, he also knew that they were also on the run from something that they didn’t want to get anyone else involved with. And, on the off chance they were running from something different than what Alex was running from, all three of them were now in twice as much danger.

His legs were starting to feel shaky. His stomach grumbled.

He kept pacing.

He couldn’t help it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, fairly choppy chapter. Finally focused on Jeff a little. Too bad he's way out of character purely from stress and anxiety on his part.


	26. The Rogue God and the Rake

Alex was adjusting to the whole cannibalism thing very well, Noah thought.

Sure, he didn’t eat near as much as Habit did, or even as much as Noah did, but he had managed to stomach it on a semi-regular basis the past couple days. So far he hadn’t thrown up or refused to eat any of the meat he’d been given, but he also didn’t go out of his way to eat it, much like Noah had done at first.

That was fine, and probably the best for him anyway. Noah wasn’t entirely sure that giving him the meat and hoping for him to gain powers like theirs from it was really the correct method to get him relief from the thing that was stalking him in his dreams, or that getting him hooked on the meat in the first place was a great idea. On the off-chance the three of them managed to return to the real world and their old lives at any point in time, all three of them having debilitating cravings for human flesh would be… Well, not good. He could probably get away with it, what with no longer being human and capable of teleporting and such, but Habit and Alex weren’t quite so lucky.

And he was glad of that, really. Habit had enough raw power before all of this, and not having the level of power that Noah did would keep him from getting reckless. And Alex? Alex just didn’t need to deal with that responsibility yet.

Right now, the three of them were together, as was fairly usual. Alex didn’t like to be alone for long periods of time, and Habit thrived off social interaction, so they often spent time together. Noah was just around for both of their convenience, really. Habit still needed someone to take his frustrations out on, sexually and otherwise, and Alex tended to need a good deal of warmth and reassurance. Noah was good for those things. And if needed he could be a pretty okay guy to hang around, from what he understood.

Alex was in his usual chair, with his usual blanket, quietly typing away on his laptop while chewing absently on his lip. Noah would protest the latter activity if Alex was actually biting down rather than just holding part of his bottom lip between his teeth and moving his jaw around. But that was all he was doing, and Noah didn’t want to interrupt him when he seemed relatively at peace.

The peace, the calm, did not last, however. It was shattered quite spectacularly within moments, actually, with a very simple sound.

A loud, inhuman-sounding shriek came from the forest surrounding the house, and immediately upon hearing it Alex went completely still, eyes larger than Noah had seen them since Aiden’s arrival.

“You okay, buddy?” Habit asked before Noah could open his mouth.

Alex didn’t reply, slowly turning his head toward the window. Noah could hear his heart thumping in his chest.

The sound came again, and Alex’s eyes somehow got wider. His laptop slid out of his grip and shut on impact with the ground with a loud thump. His hands clenched in the blanket, breath speeding up. His eyes looked a little glazed, and something told Noah that Alex wasn’t mentally with them anymore.

The sound came again, and Alex’s response was a weak, strangled sob.

Habit got up and went to him, scooting the laptop out of the way carefully and laying an uncharacteristically hesitant hand on Alex’s shoulder. Noah got up as well, watching Alex’s shoulder twitch under Habit’s touch. But Alex did not look at him. He continued to stare at the window, eyes glazed and breathing coming in short, panicked gasps and choked sobs.

Another of the screeches.

When Noah gently worked his way into Alex’s head, something he had yet to try with anyone and was very careful about, all he could see was a dark room, with shadows floating off of each surface. And then he was pinned down, the frightening creature Alex had described to him over top of him. The next screech from outside lined up with the one in Alex’s mind.

Noah found himself consumed with an anger he couldn’t entirely explain. This thing… It was causing Alex flashbacks. Flashbacks to the nightmares he still had every night. Wasn’t it enough to torment him in his sleep? Did it really have to come during the now waning daylight hours?

Noah wasn’t sure how he knew that Alex was having a flashback and wasn’t just thinking about the dreams, but he did. He knew it just as well as he knew who and what the Observer was.

He withdrew from Alex’s mind, careful not to affect him with this all-consuming anger he felt growing in his chest. Within the next three seconds or so, a loud thump came at the window. Noah’s head snapped toward it, and he immediately recognized the beast from Alex’s nightmares and his flashbacks. It thumped its clawed hand on the window once again, and Noah faintly registered that it had cracked the glass.

Alex gasped behind him. Dipping back into his head showed he was no longer trapped in a waking nightmare. Noah didn’t look any further and withdrew once more, noting with vague interest that he was approaching the window. He locked eyes with the creature (and he wasn’t sure how he knew he was looking it in the eyes, since the sockets were empty), and it moved with such willful intention that he felt his temperature rise. It raised its hand once more and thumped it against the glass.

The glass shattered.

Almost before the shards had hit the ground the creature was ambling through the remains of the window. And that all-consuming rage Noah felt finally consumed him completely. He saw more than felt himself lift his hand and blast the creature right back out the window. It shrieked and he was at the window, hand engulfed in flames.

Threatening.

It shrieked directly at him, but backed away somewhat, down on all fours and leaning toward the ground. Like it was going to pounce.

He blasted it again, and it let out an even louder, blood curdling screech, and then it was skittering away into the trees. Its skin burned and blistered as it ran. It was actually on fire.

Belatedly, Noah realized that he was too.

He took a long moment to take a few deep breaths. He put out the flames before taking a step away from the window, finally, looking toward Alex and Habit. Neither of them were looking at him, now - Alex had his face buried in Habit’s neck, hands knotted in the fabric of his shirt.

Habit, likewise, had his arms wrapped around Alex. He was resting his head on top of the teen’s. And he was talking, voice calm and soft. Noah didn’t think he’d ever heard Habit speak so quietly before, actually. It was kind of surreal. Habit didn’t really _do_ quiet, in general, so hearing him be _that_ quiet was… Something of a privilege.

Too bad Alex had to be in such a bad place mentally to receive it - and Noah could _tell_ he was in a bad place. He could damn near feel it. But now that he’d been into Alex’s head a couple of times, he wasn’t particularly surprised. He’d probably have to try a little harder to completely sever the connection and return to just being able to gather basic information and not direct thoughts.

For now though, being able to get into Alex’s head had its benefits.

Noah wasn’t really a tactile person when he was like this, and he knew that. He didn’t like to be touched in the wake of using his powers, for whatever reason. He guessed it was just his body associating the power with his transformation into what he was, and not wanting anything to do with it for a while. Regardless, though, he didn’t _need_ to be tactile when Habit was already accomplishing that with vigor.

What Noah could manage right now was a little less commonplace, and might freak Alex out worse to begin with, but it would help eventually.

Those thoughts brought Noah back to their sides, and brought his mind carefully back into contact with Alex’s. He was less careful this time, let his presence be known to the boy, and understandably he flinched back from the contact. Noah was patient, though. He approached again, slower, and let Alex feel more than see who he was and what his intentions were.

This time, Alex didn’t flinch, and actually pushed a little closer. That was good.

Some time later, Noah would likely never be sure how long, Alex was completely calm once more. He pulled carefully away from Alex’s mind, and while the younger was somewhat reluctant to let him go, he didn’t try to keep him in there, understanding through the connection that Noah staying was unnecessary.

“Feel better now, kiddo?” Noah asked out loud.

Alex slowly pulled his face out of Habit’s neck and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, guys.”

Habit ruffled his hair, though the look he cast at Noah made it clear he wanted to know what, if anything, Noah had done this whole time. As far as Habit knew, Noah had most likely been sitting in the same spot for an indeterminate amount of time and staring.

“No problem,” Habit said as he pulled back a little further to examine him.

Noah stayed quiet.

“I’m fine, Habit.” Alex informed the older male. “I was just… Really freaked out. Did any of that actually happen?” He turned to Noah for the last part.

Noah stayed quiet, again, but cast a glance toward the broken window and the shattered glass littering the floor. It was damn near a miracle nothing was scorched, really.

Alex followed his gaze and from the corner of his eye Noah saw him shudder.

“Curiosity sated.” He said quietly. “On that, at least.” He looked to Noah again, seemingly trying to shake the obvious fear before it rekindled too strongly. “But I _do_ wanna know how you did all that.”

“I’d give you an answer right this second, but I have something else I need to do first.” Noah said, watching both of the others’ befuddled expressions. He knew what he wanted - _needed_ \- to do, and as always the way to do it manifested in his mind as he considered it.

He stood and paced back to the window, lifting one hand. With more effort than he’d like to admit to, he forced back the hands of time on the window alone and watched, secretly just as entranced as the others, as the shards of glass picked themselves up and the window reformed. The pieces settled back into place and then the cracks between them shrunk back to their starting point and, finally, disappeared. A neat party trick, he supposed, but nothing he could use too much.

He felt shaky and weak. The last time he’d felt that way was before the deaths and resurrections that made him what he was today. He swore he felt his soul shudder at the very thought. Sure, he could talk about the unfortunate circumstances, talk about what happened, but it still bothered him. It still made him deeply uncomfortable to think about Swain’s particular brand of torture and Deadhead’s “beliefs.”

He had a brief, but horrifying, memory of his own intestines strewn over the floor and Swain’s hands wrapped tightly around his throat.

“Whoa. How-?” He heard Alex’s voice. He was thankful. It pulled him forcefully back into the present.

“You remember how I told you about the meat and me getting kidnapped?” Noah quirked a brow at him after he turned back to him.

“Yeah.” Alex tilted his head.

“It has to do with that. This could take a while, though, so get comfy.”

Alex did as he was told, and Habit did as well, likely just for the sake of being comfortable rather than so he could listen. Noah settled down on the couch. When he was sure Alex was comfortable and listening, he began to tell him what he could. He explained his powers the best that he could, and if Habit looked interested at any point he chose to ignore it.

It wasn’t until Alex finally retired to bed (with no amount of persuasion from his caretakers, which was unusual) after they discussed it a bit that Habit showed any interest that Noah was willing to indulge.

“So…” He wrapped an arm around Noah’s waist after he stood, intending to do the same thing Alex just had. “Crazy mind-powers, huh?”

Noah rolled his eyes, but leaned into the touch Habit was offering. “Mhm.”

“Mind if I test that new level of healing?” Habit’s voice was a dark purr in his ear, and it made Noah question how strong his resolve was to keep his feelings to himself.

It also made him wonder how someone shorter than him could make him so scared. And horny. Mostly horny. But also scared, because he knew what Habit would like to do to him given the chance.

“Knock yourself out,” Noah said.

He didn’t comment on the huge grin that split Habit’s face, nor did he question why _this_ was what made Habit finally want to mess with him again after the past few weeks. He let him lead him up to his room, he let him coax him out of his shirt. And, although he wouldn’t admit it, he enjoyed Habit’s ministrations a little more than usual.

He’d admit to enjoying what came afterwards without shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay now would be a good time to like. Educate me a bit better on PTSD if you feel like I haven't displayed it right. Cuz I have no experience with it myself and I want to be accurate.


	27. Old "Friends"

Noah had to say that, when he got up this morning, he wasn’t expecting guests.

He wasn’t expecting to walk out of the kitchen and back into the living room to see Kevin standing there. Grinning at him. Looking for all the world like he belonged there. Except for the part where he _didn’t_ belong there. He didn’t even have any right to exist in this little limbo.

Alex was in his usual chair, still, and Noah could see the tenseness of his muscles. He could see him twitching, staring at Kevin like he _knew_ he didn’t belong here. He was still covered by his blanket, but his arms were moving slowly and deliberately beneath it.

He was picking at his scabs again, then.

Noah wanted to tell him to stop, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He was too focused on watching Kevin’s movements. Right now, Alex was an afterthought. Kevin was more important. What was he planning? Why was he here?

“Noah!” Kevin greeted when he finally caught sight of him. “Great to see you - you look well!”

“I don’t know why you’re here, and I don’t care.” Noah replied immediately, ignoring that he’d spoken at all. “Get out. You aren’t welcome.”

Kevin faked an offended look, placing a hand over his chest. “Noah, I’m hurt-” He made to continue, but, honestly, Firebrand really wasn’t feeling it.

“Good. Take your mock offense and shove it, and then kindly escort yourself out of my house.” He took a step toward him. “I’m really not in the mood for your shit.”

Usually, he’d have ended the sentence with the man’s name - not this time, though. He didn’t deserve to be addressed with that much respect. He didn’t really deserve to be addressed in the first place, but it was necessary to get him the hell out.

Kevin sniffed indignantly, but didn’t leave or try to reply otherwise. Firebrand was preparing to force him out when he heard Habit meander down the staircase at last. His eyes snapped to the older male, and a surge of protectiveness rose up when he noticed Kevin was looking at him as well.

“Ah, there he is. The man of the hour.” Kevin said, “Just the guy I wanted to see.”

Habit blinked at him, either not recognizing him yet or not understanding why he was there. The second seemed more likely, Firebrand thought. The Observer gave a wide grin, and Firebrand only noted the difference because Kevin’s teeth weren’t that sharp.

“It’s about time to bring you into the fold, my friend.”

Firebrand didn’t wait to hear more. Probably couldn’t have if he wanted to. His instinctual reaction to that was to set the Observer on fire and force him out of the house… Which he promptly did. While the Observer frantically tried to put himself out, Firebrand grabbed him and teleported them out into the forest. For good measure he kicked Observer as hard as he could in the ribs, hearing a rather satisfying crack.

He teleported back quickly, mindful of the fact that there were others who could come. Who probably _would_ come. And the likelihood of both of the ones he could put names to arriving was… Higher than he liked. Still, he needed to be in the house, and he needed to make sure that Habit didn’t get taken in by those bastards.

Not that he thought Habit needed any kind of protection from him, but he did need someone to drive these assholes off until such a time came that he was strong enough to do it himself. Firebrand was confident in Habit’s abilities, yes, but he was no fool. Habit couldn’t fight Swain or Deadhead by himself… Not yet. He was strong, but not strong enough. They’d strike him down like Palpatine and Anakin struck down Windu.

Funny that he was still a nerd when he was like this.

Habit blinked at him when he returned, as did Alex.

“What was that about?” Alex asked quietly, “Who was that?”

“That was Kevin.” Habit answered off-handedly. “But I dunno about the other part.”

“That was about him wanting to do to you,” Firebrand pointed at Habit, “What he did to me.”

“I’d say ‘well that’s not so bad,’ but even I’m not going there.” Habit sighed. “While the powers and such would be neat as hell, I’m not about getting repeatedly disemboweled. I dunno how you put up with it, Noah.”

“Firebrand.” He corrected absently, looking around, “And I suppose after a while of getting your stomach cut open by someone you like, it doesn’t bother you near as much when someone you don’t like does it.”

Alex’s brows knit together - Noah had never explained the whole Firebrand schism to him. He only knew that Habit occasionally called him that (or various variations of it).

“I’ll explain later.” He assured him. “Right now I need to stay on my toes. No doubt he’ll call in backup.”

“The fuckers who tortured you?” Habit asked.

“Probably.”

There was a silence. Finally, Firebrand said, “Both of you, go upstairs. I don’t know what these two are capable of, but they’ll probably expect you to be with me.”

Habit nodded, and Alex got to his feet, stumbling over to Habit.

“You should stay together. Yell if you need me.”

“Got it.”

The two of them went upstairs quietly, and almost as soon as he heard Habit’s door close, the pressure of the air seemed to change. Swain and Deadhead appeared. Both of them were laughing.

“Glauben Sie wirklich, Sie sie von uns, Firebrand halten können?” Deadhead spoke.

Firebrand’s brain worked quickly to translate it - _Do you really think you can keep them from us, Firebrand?_

“Ja.” He replied flatly. “Selbst wenn ich dich nicht aufhalten kann, kann ich es zumindest versuchen.” _Even if I cannot stop you, at least I can try._

“Furchtbar optimistisch von dir.” Swain said. _Terribly optimistic of you._

“Ich versuche.” Firebrand shrugged. _I’m trying._

There was no more civil talking, after that. There was a blur of action as they dodged his fire and he dodged their physical attacks. Swain struck at him with a knife. He avoided it only barely, then had to duck beneath Deadhead’s hands as he made a grab for him.

“You’re stronger than I was expecting.” Swain told him, “Faster, too.”

“You underestimated me.” Firebrand managed to reply, finally hitting Swain with a pillar of flames.

The man shouted, jerking away as his mask began to melt. Firebrand hoped that it would graft onto his face, if he even had one beneath it. Deadhead took advantage of his temporary distraction to grab him, plunging a knife into his throat in an attempt to subdue him. Firebrand hardly noticed Swain disappearing in an apparently rather final retreat. He was far too preoccupied with pulling the knife from his throat and returning the favor to Deadhead, piercing right through his trachea.

He didn’t stop with that - he jerked the knife down to Deadhead’s sternum, tearing almost too easily into the flesh and leaving the man choking on his own blood.

He made his retreat without a sound.

Firebrand remained. He waited for anyone else to come.

No one did.

Firebrand took a deep breath and sank down onto the floor, down to his knees. The reality of what had just happened, who he had just faced off against, crashed into him. Shook him to the core. Noah pressed a hand to his throat to stem the bleeding, trying to keep his breathing steady. He just saw Swain and Deadhead again. He just _fought_ Swain and Deadhead. He’d been face to face with the fuckwad and the Nazi dirtbag who had tortured and killed him. They’d made a hell of an attempt to kill him again to get him out of their way.

The wound healed, but he kept his hand where it was, almost afraid to move. The world was going a little fuzzy… Probably not from blood loss, he reasoned. He was probably just making himself sick from anxiety. That seemed reasonable.

Oh. Ew. He was doing _that_ again. Being all clinical and detached.

He didn’t like it.

He heard someone approaching and swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to try and clear his vision. He was fine. He was okay. He’d faced Swain and Deadhead and he’d come out on top. He’d proven that they weren’t going to take him down easily, and that unless he let them or ran out of energy they weren’t capable of repeating their previous treatment of him.

“You okay?” He heard Alex ask quietly.

“Just need a minute.” He replied.

“... It was scary seeing them again, wasn’t it?” Alex kept his voice soft as he settled himself onto the ground next to Noah.

“Yeah.” Noah admitted after a long silence. “I didn’t notice at first because of the adrenaline, but… Yeah.”

Alex nodded slightly. “And now that it’s hit you, you’re having a hard time convincing yourself that you’re okay. But even once you manage it, you’re still scared because you’re never going to be able to forget what you’ve been through.”

Noah gave him an odd look, at that. It faded after a moment and he said, “That’s how you felt when you saw that thing, isn’t it?”

“That’s how I feel every time I see it.” Alex agreed. “Except for that time. You and Habit made me feel safer.”

“You’re still seeing it?”

Alex shifted uncomfortably, then nodded. “Yeah. Still having nightmares. Just not as often, which is nice.” He sighed, picking at his scabs. “It doesn’t attack me as often, either. Only once in the past week or so, and it only barely caught me before I woke up.”

“So it’s gotten better since you got here?”

Internally, Alex breathed a sigh of relief. Mission accomplished - he’d distracted Noah, and now Noah looked like he felt considerably better. Alex: one; Noah’s brain: zero. Externally, though, he nodded again. “Yeah. It doesn’t come after me during naps, now, and it lets me get some real sleep at night before it comes after me.”

Noah smiled slightly. “Well, maybe I scared some sense into it.”

Alex laughed. “Maybe. I wouldn’t be surprised - you’re terrifying sometimes.”

“Am I?”

“Definitely. But I’m not worried, cuz I happen to know you’re harmless so long as I don’t piss you off.”

That made Noah laugh, which made Alex feel very good.

They sat there and talked a while longer, until Alex was sure that the panic attack had been averted and Noah was going to be okay. At that point he carefully got up and meanered to his chair, thankfully unaffected by the firefight.

“How’d you keep from turning all the furniture into crème brûlée, by the way?” Alex found himself asking.

“Self control, I guess.” Noah shrugged as he plopped onto the couch. “Wasn’t paying much attention. Where’s Habit?”

“Still upstairs, as far as I know. He laid down.”

“Lazy bastard.” Noah snorted. “He just got up, and now he’s back in bed?”

Alex laughed, even though he felt bad since Habit had said something about not feeling so great. He tried to ignore it. He could have a laugh at Habit even if he felt sick - it was normal to laugh at your friends and be sympathetic at the same time.

“He said he wasn’t feeling too good, but…” Alex shrugged. “Might have been an excuse to get me out of his room after the fighting stopped.”

Noah pursed his lips. “Might have been. I’ll check on him in a bit.”

Alex nodded. “... Can we watch something until then?”

“Sure thing, kiddo. Got anything in mind?”

“I was thinking maybe a cartoon of some kind, to take our minds off the bad stuff.”

“Works for me.” Noah said, turning on the TV.

He scrolled through the options once he got Netflix up and running. They both vetoed multiple cartoons before finally settling on the eternally cringey (but painfully nostalgic) _Sonic Underground._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter, especially considering the delay, but there wasn't anything else to say. Also fight scenes (even painfully short ones that seemed longer when I wrote them) aren't my forte, nor are the reactions of victims to their aggressors. Most of the time I spent working on this chapter was _actually_ spent staring at the document and internally screaming because I have no idea what I'm doing and it's literally all my fault I have to deal with this.


	28. Preparations

It started as a joke, if Alex was honest.

“Let’s go to the beach,” had been a half-hearted suggestion that was really just meant to be funny when Noah and Habit had been going back and forth on what to do. Where to go. All of them wanted to get out of the house, and New Years Eve was a hell of a day to do it. There had been a lot of discussion earlier in the day (or, rather, in the middle of the night, since Alex was having trouble sleeping for non-dream demon related reasons, Habit got up for a midnight snack, and Noah never seemed to sleep) about where they should go and what they should do if they left at all. They didn’t really get anywhere with it until Alex piped up with his suggestion.

To his shock, the others had jumped on the idea almost immediately. Their biggest issue, however, seemed to be how they’d get Alex out and about without someone possibly recognizing him. Noah was following the news on his case almost religiously, and there was no way someone else in Fort Myers hadn’t seen it. There was no way there wasn’t someone just waiting for the chance to call in a tip on him.

In the end, they decided it didn’t really matter all that much if he was seen, but just in case he was, Habit made a midnight trip to the nearest 24-hour store (probably one of the six Wal-Marts in town, but Alex didn’t ask) and ended up sending him a picture of their hair dye selection. The price tags on the shelves only furthered his suspicions of Wal-Mart, but he ignored it.

A: [3:46am]  _ Can I pick one of the unnatural ones? _

H: [3:47am]  _ you had to ask? lol _

H: [3:47am]  _ hell man you can get two if you want i don’t think you get how much money i’m willing to spend on you _

Alex considered the options for a little bit longer before he made his decision.

A: [3:49am]  _ This is gonna sound so dumb but can I get the pink and light blue? _

H: [3:49am]  _ that doesn’t sound stupid kiddo that sounds fucking adorable _

Alex’s cheeks heated. Still, he’d always wanted to dye his hair funky colors, and pink and blue seemed like a good place to start. And Habit was willing to go ahead and buy them for him, which was nice. He’d have to find some way to pay him back for everything… And Noah, too.

Habit had soon returned home with a few more bags than Alex or Noah were expecting, but he’d just grinned at their questioning glances and bustled past them. He grabbed two of the bags and handed them off to Alex, but took the rest of them (three or four, Alex wasn’t sure) toward the couch he and Noah normally occupied.

Alex looked into the bags he had been given, brightening considerably at the sight of the two exact hair dyes he’d requested, along with shampoo and conditioner and a bottle of body wash. There was also a bottle of Melatonin. Habit shot him a grin when he looked at him. He smiled hesitantly back.

The other bag contained a set of fake plugs - as in the ear-gauge kind -, a few assorted beanies with different designs and overall color schemes, a new jacket, an undershirt, and a pair of skinny jeans. Habit hadn’t been kidding when he said Alex didn’t get how much money he was willing to spend on him. This was way more than he’d been expecting… And he was pretty sure it showed on his face.

“You good, kiddo?” Habit was laughing, but it was gentler than usual.

“I… Wasn’t expecting this much stuff.” He admitted.

“You need a good disguise - I figure at least one new outfit and the dye job will keep most attention off of you. At least attention from people who would want to get you back home.”

Alex smiled slightly. “So you want me to dress like a punk while we’re at the beach?”

“Why not?” Habit grinned.

Alex grabbed the clothing bag and said something about trying all of it on. His caretakers both nodded, and he disappeared into the hall bathroom. Conveniently, all of it fit perfectly. He chose not to ask how Habit knew what sizes to get.

He paused to see if he could get the fake plugs into his ears - his ears were pierced, once, a long time ago. He was pretty sure they’d have grown closed by now… But no! The post of the fake plug slid in pretty easily. He screwed the other side back on, then did the same with the other in the opposite ear. This was a pleasant surprise, really.

He exited the bathroom with a grin he couldn’t contain, practically bouncing back to Habit and Noah. Upon noticing him, Habit’s face split into one of the grins that Alex hadn’t seen since before he vanished back in June.

After Noah and Habit finished admiring his outfit (to his embarrassment), Habit whisked him back off to the bathroom with his hair dyes and some tin foil.

About two and a half hours later, by his reckoning, Alex emerged from the bathroom for the final time with very fluffy blue and pink hair. Habit kept ruffling it and petting it, and upon their arrival back in the living room he encouraged Noah to do that same. Unsurprisingly, he did, though with a pinch more respect for Alex’s personal space - not that Alex really minded having it invaded by either of them, but still. It was nice knowing he had a choice to opt out of letting Noah touch him.

(He had the choice with Habit, too, of course, but ever summoning the courage to tell him “no touch” was the issue here.)

By that time, the sun was due to start rising in something like an hour… Give or take. Alex’s grasp of time wasn’t much better than Noah’s if he was honest. Although, Noah seemed to be getting more adept at it now that they had wall-clocks and calendars in the house.

As a unit they decided that going to bed would be a waste of their time, and likely put them off schedule for their plans.

Not that they really had anything specific thrown together, yet, but that was kind of Habit’s point when he first brought up not going to bed (or  _ back _ to bed, in his case). If they went to bed they might not wake up until it was starting to get too late to plan anything.

Once they did have everything planned, however, Alex finally felt tired. Against his better judgement he curled up in his chair and fell asleep.

In the meantime, Habit set about preparing some stuff for them to eat while they were out - just snacks, though. He figured he could afford to spend a little on food if they decided they wanted a meal. Noah rolled his eyes at the sentiment, glanced at their charge snoozing away in his chair, and starting making preparations for the actual celebration of New Years they’d likely be doing tonight.

For the time being, he decked out his parents’ house rather than the mansion, if just for the sake of making it easier on himself when the time came to decorate. It was easier to do it now, in the other house, and, a) not have to look at the decorations all day, and b) just chill out there when it was time to celebrate. Just in case any of his other friends who had dropped him decided they wanted to drop in for a visit now that he was independant and had a “cool” roommate.

While Habit was absent from the kitchen doing God-knew-what, Noah went ahead and stocked the fridge with various types of alcohol that he knew he enjoyed. He stuck mostly to beer, however, just in case Habit wasn’t a fan of the other stuff.

Sure, they weren’t of legal age to drink, but honestly? Noah had been drinking for years already, and if they happened to get caught at this point then a little underage drinking would be the  _ least _ of their problems. Not that he was actually expecting to get caught, or expecting Habit to want to partake. Habit didn’t seem the drinking type…

When Habit returned and went back to prepping snacks, he made note of the new alcohol in the fridge and raised a brow.

“Plannin’ a blowout, ‘Brandy?”

“Just stocking up.” Noah shrugged. “Besides - it’s New Year’s Eve. What kind of adult doesn’t drink on New Year’s Eve?”

“You just want an excuse to start drinking again,” Habit rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“I don’t need an excuse.” Noah snorted. “I can do whatever I want, in case you’d forgotten. But for real - New Year’s Eve is when I usually drink anyway.”

“Along with every other day you have free access to alcohol.” Habit pointed out.

“Yeah, so New Year’s Eve. Sometimes Halloween.” He rolled his eyes. “Point is that it’s New Year’s Eve and I’m gonna drink. And you have the option to drink with me or to stay sober with Alex. Or, hell, you can both drink with me or Alex can while you stay sober by yourself.”

“Alex is fifteen, Noah.” Habit frowned.

“Alex lives with two cannibals, one of whom is a fucking rogue god.” Noah frowned back at him. “Teen drinking isn’t exactly the worst possible outcome for him with us.”

Habit seemed to back off, at that, nodding to himself. “Fine.”

“Besides. I never said he had to. It’s up to him.”

Habit nodded again. “Fair enough. I’m more of a weed guy than a beer guy, to be honest, but getting drunk on New Year’s Eve doesn’t sound so bad.”

Noah shot him a brief grin, then quietly left the room, pacing about the house. Waiting. Trying to keep himself awake despite knowing it didn’t take quite that much effort nowadays. He ended up back in the kitchen after about an hour.

“Got any New Year’s resolutions?”

“Not yet.” Habit hummed, and it appeared he’d long since finished making snacks. He was nursing a large cup of coffee instead, seated at the table. “I’ll come up with one by tonight, I’m sure. What about you?”

He had one, he’d admit. But not one he was willing to disclose yet.

So he shook his head. “Nah, gotta think of one.”

Habit just nodded. “You need a coffee? I actually made a whole pot this time.”

“Yeah, actually.” Noah laughed, making his way to the coffee pot. “Thanks - though I’m sure you only made that much because you anticipated needing a lot to keep yourself awake.”

“I’ve already had three cups.” Habit chortled.

Noah shook his head, smiling somewhat fondly as he filled his cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this chapter and the two immediately following it were going to be one big chapter, but it was _hella_ long, so I split it up into three instead.  
>  Flows better like that anyways.


	29. A Day Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooooo welcome back to this dumpster fire of a fic lol. It's been a longass month of hiatus. Got a fair bit done.  
> So anyway here's chapter 29, being served up hot and fresh for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!

Around two in the afternoon, Noah finally woke the cotton candy-haired teen who was still curled up tightly in his chair. The boy, cocooned in his blanket, peeked out slowly, blinking blearily up at him. His hair stuck up off of his head in a big, poofy mess, looking just like the cotton candy Noah had been mentally comparing it to ever since the dye-job was finished.

“... Huh? What time is it?” Alex grumbled, scrubbing at his eyes tiredly.

“About two.” Noah told him, suppressing chuckles at the cloud of blue and pink surrounding Alex’s face.

Alex grumbled some more, yawning and bringing one hand up to run through his hair, only causing it to poof up further after he was finished. Noah suppressed a laugh. Alex ignored it and carefully disengaged himself from his blanket, getting up before he folded the blanket and threw it over the back of the chair.

“We headin’ out soon?” Alex questioned, stretching.

Noah hummed affirmatively. “I’d tell you to get dressed, but you already are.”

Alex chuckled softly. “I forgot I died my hair and it freaked me out for a second.” He informed the older.

Noah couldn’t help laughing at that. He let Alex go off to do whatever he needed to do at the moment, returning to the kitchen himself.

Soon enough, Alex was ready and Habit had deemed himself to be that way as well, leaving only Noah to prepare himself. He considered taking his time with it, but instead chose to pop into a new outfit as quick as he could and then join the other two out on the porch.

Upon reuniting there, Habit gave a soft whoop and practically bounced to the driver’s side of his car. Alex quickly followed to climb into the backseat on the same side while Noah nonchalantly ported himself right into the passenger’s seat. Neither of his car-mates jumped at it, which was somewhat disappointing, but was also a good thing. That meant they were getting used to him popping up whenever and wherever he wanted and were less likely to scream in the event he popped up in front of them at an inopportune moment.

Noah considered, much too late, that the Observer could see them now that they’d left the house. He tensed minutely before deciding that the four-eyed freak probably wasn’t stupid enough to try anything with them in public. They’d just have to be prepared for an ambush when they arrived home, just in case.

Noah chose not to mention any of this out loud just yet, however. It would be better to let his companions enjoy the day, and try to enjoy it himself. This was their day out. This was their day to relax.

They ended up, of course, going straight to the nearest beach. Alex took immediate advantage of the sun being out and plopped himself into the sunniest, emptiest spot he could find. Even though he was wearing a black jacket in the middle of the day in  _ Florida, _ he seemed to be quite comfortable, stretching out on his back and happily soaking up the sun. Noah chuckled. Of course the kid would go after the warmth of the sun, though. He’d been stuck in a perpetually chilly mansion for a month and a half.

Habit, meanwhile, plopped down next to him with an audible purr, and Noah chose to do the same… Sans the noise, of course. The animal noise thing was all Habit - Noah didn’t usually do that sort of thing unless he wasn’t paying attention.

Habit purred and growled and snarled just because he could, and he had a damn fine time doing it.

He was also very much aware that he was purring and very much okay with that. People weren’t really likely to approach three teens hanging out on the beach, especially not when one of them was dressed the way Alex was, so he felt like he could let loose for the most part. Besides - he saw Alex smile when he noticed he was purring and that made it worth it.

He cast a glance over at Noah, taking in the fact that the man had decided to go out of his way to hide the changes that he’d gotten since they’d started eating human meat… Most of them, anyway. There were still little flecks of gold in his dark brown eyes, which was honestly pretty attractive. Alex made some sort of joke, and Habit laughed even if he didn’t fully comprehend it because of his current state of mind. Noah laughed, too, and Habit noticed he hadn’t bothered to hide his fangs - just made them smaller.

Noah caught him staring, of course, but he didn’t let that stop him. He was the kind of person who stared at everybody. It wasn’t unusual.

“You know, Maxwell, you’re lookin’ pretty damn good for a guy who’s died like three times.” He grinned.

True to his expectation, Noah’s cheeks turned somewhat pink. They always did when he said something like that, which was part of why he kept doing it, especially here lately. Noah was harder to get a rise out of ever since the whole dying and coming back as a rogue god thing than he should be, so even just being able to make him blush was an accomplishment and Habit intended to exploit the hell out of it... Even if it meant somewhat awkwardly flirting with him here and there.

“Shut up.” Noah told him, looking away.

Habit laughed, and his mind suddenly jerked the memory of Noah shit-talking himself the day Alex showed up to the front of his mind.

_ “Yeah, didn’t think you did. I’d have to worry for your mental health if you actually meant something by it. After all - who would want to date  _ **_me?”_ **

Noah’s expression when he’d replied with “Don’t say that,” had told him almost immediately that while Noah’s tone had been joking, he’d been serious. And he’d been expecting Habit to laugh at him. That much was obvious just from the look of pure shock that came across Noah’s face for about two seconds before it cleared up.

He couldn’t help wondering what had happened to make Noah think that way. It wasn’t that he  _ cared… _ Okay, yeah, it was. He’d lived with the guy for six months, almost seven, used him as his own personal torture doll, fucked him three times just in the past two months, and on many occasions allowed him close personal contact when most people would have gotten punched just for being within three feet of him in a public place, so it was pretty obvious that he cared more than he was usually willing to admit. And because he cared, he couldn’t help wondering what had happened to make Noah so willing to verbally acknowledge and make jokes about having been single for about as long as Habit had known him.

Aside from the fact that he’d been single all that time, of course. Because just that by itself wasn’t usually enough to make someone make jokes about being single - it was just enough to make them complain about it.

Maybe Noah was so far past the point of caring that jokes were natural?

Maybe.

“I’m serious,” Habit said after a moment, “You look good, man.”

Noah’s cheeks turned redder and he grumbled something about Habit being a douche. Habit laughed again. Between them, Alex was biting the inside of his lip to avoid laughing, lips stretched into an amused smile.

Habit vaguely acknowledged, at last, that they’d sat down on either side of the kid in what was most likely an unconscious effort to protect him. Habit snickered to himself at the thought and brushed his hair out of his face. Anybody who tried to hurt Alex out in public was an idiot on whole new levels, but he didn’t doubt Florida had some such idiots somewhere. After all, Alex was dressed like a punk and some people didn’t take kindly to that sort of thing, so…

He swept the beach with his eyes and found no one staring at them yet.

Good.

“You gotta tell me what your secret is, Noah. How does one die and still manage to look that good?” Habit continued on his streak, very aware that he was flirting and not at all ashamed. He’d had his dick in this guy’s ass  _ three _ times - surely flirting wasn’t off the table entirely.

“I’m never taking you anywhere again.” Noah groaned, dropping his face into his hands, “Not if it means being subjected to your terrible attempts at pickup lines.”

“I’m not even trying, Maxwell.” He reached over Alex to give him a gentle shove. “I guarantee I could charm your pants off right here if I did. I’m just trying to get a rise out of you.”

Noah gave him a rather grumpy, suffering look, then returned his face to his hands, and Habit felt… Warm. Like -  _ emotionally _ he felt warm. Something about that reaction made him happy in a way that wasn’t pure sadism.

He had to admit that face was pretty cute, though, which wasn’t something he thought he’d be thinking to himself about Noah fuckin’ Maxwell at any point in time, but here he was. The closest he’d ever come was admitting to Noah that he found him oddly attractive when he was injured, but that… Well. That was a purely physical response. This one had emotions in it and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Aww, don’t be like that, Noah.”

“I’m being like that, Habit.” Noah grumbled.

“Would you two just kiss already?” Alex blurted from between them, immediately putting his hands over his mouth when he was done. His cheeks heated.

Noah removed his face from his hands to give him a disbelieving look, and Habit merely began to laugh again. “I dunno, kiddo, he might set me on fire if I try.”

“I wouldn’t set you on fire for trying to kiss me.” Noah snapped defensively, only to turn redder than a sunburnt tomato, “I mean. Setting you on fire is a little much, y’know?”

“So what  _ would  _ you do if I tried to kiss you right now?”

“... Kiss back?” Noah suggested. “I dunno. Depends on whether I’m expecting you to try or not.”

Habit chuckled. Alex gave a small snicker and sat up. Noah just rolled his eyes at both of them.

“You know what I miss?” Alex said after a moment, “My phone. Like my laptop is great but taking it  _ everywhere _ is kind of silly.”

“I’ll getcha a new one.” Habit told him, watching the kid make a face somewhere between surprised and overwhelmed.

He seemed to always make that face when Habit offered to spend more than a couple dollars on him, even back before this started. Habit guessed he just felt bad when people spent money on him or helped him out without him doing anything in return. And after all the stuff that Habit had bought for him last night, it was no surprise that Alex was making that face again. Habit had spent a lot of money on him and here he was offering to spend more.

“On the subject of money,” Noah began suddenly, having already managed to coerce his skin back to its natural color, “Have you noticed that we haven’t paid a single bill since we got to the house and yet we still have Netflix, functioning WiFi, phone service,  _ and _ electricity and running water?”

Habit considered that. And, as weird as it was… Noah was right. Nothing was being paid, but they still had all the amenities. The Netflix could easily be explained considering it was Habit’s  _ parents’ _ Netflix, but everything else was a long shot without something bigger being involved. Noah’s parents weren’t in the picture for some strange reason, so obviously they weren’t paying any bills, and even if they were they wouldn’t affect the mansion. They’d only affect their house.

He shook his head. “Man, don’t even get me started on that.” He groaned, “You’re gonna make me give myself a migraine.”

“Consider it payback.” Noah quipped absently, “Regardless. Nothing’s been paid, you don’t actually seem to be running that low on money, and I have reality-altering powers now… So like, couldn’t we just…  _ Make _ him a phone? Like…” He trailed, “Do you think I could just summon a functioning smartphone that doesn’t belong to anyone else?”

Habit furrowed his brow. Alex did as well. That was… Actually a pretty damn good question. Noah was chock full of those ever since his death, it seemed.

“I mean… Maybe?” Habit chose to say. “You could try but I don’t know how your powers work so I couldn’t tell you for sure. Didn’t you say this sort of stuff just kind of comes to you, though?”

“It usually does, but I’m actually going out of my way to not be Firebrand in public, Hab. There’s no cheats for me unless I’m willing to dip into the persona for a few seconds.”

Habit almost told him to do it anyway, but considering the way Firebrand acted he wasn’t sure he felt like dealing with him right now. Noah was great, and Firebrand wasn’t exactly terrible, but there was a time and a place for Firebrand’s personal brand of humor and general personality and it wasn’t here and now. Not by any stretch.

“I’m gonna give doing it a shot, though, regardless.” Noah shoved his hand into his pocket and bit his lip. “It’s the same basic principle as summoning shit to put in the mansion, so I should be able to just…” He apparently squeezed his hand around something, judging by the way his eyebrows shot up. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and… He was holding a smartphone. “Well that was easier than anticipated.” He offered it to Alex. “Wanna see if it works?”

Alex took it carefully and clicked the power button. The startup screen flashed at them and Habit didn’t realize he was leaning closer until he was basically resting his chin on Alex’s shoulder to watch. He noticed Noah doing the same on the other side of their younger charge. The phone powered on fully without a hitch, and went straight to the home screen. The default background greeted them.

“Try to text me.” Habit suggested in light of the current level of function that the phone has displayed. “You remember my number?”

Alex merely nodded, opening the messaging app and tapping out a quick message that Habit didn’t actually manage to read before Alex was typing in his number and pressing send.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

[3:23 PM]  _ lmao what even is going on in my life anymore _

He snorted and ruffled Alex’s cotton candy hair. “Nothin’ I can explain, kiddo. Maybe you should ask Noah.” He grinned widely when that made Alex smile just a little bit. Had he ever mentioned how much he loved this kid? “Anyways…” He shot a glance at Noah, still grinning, “Phone works. Nice job.”

Noah gave a little fist pump, smiling, then cast a wary glance around the area. His eyes seemed to catch on something for a moment before returning to he and Alex. Habit wasn’t sure what Noah had been looking at, but with Alex distracted with setting up his phone, he allowed his gaze to flicker over to where Noah had been looking.

Fucking.  _ Kevin. _

The guy was just lurking there, quietly watching them, a fair distance away. But when he noticed that he’d been seen, he tensed and walked away. Habit swallowed and looked around again. No sign of anyone else threatening, but he’d not yet actually met Swain or Deadhead, so he’d probably never notice them.

Noah was looking around as well. His eyes didn’t catch on anyone else, though, so Habit decided to relax for the time being. If it was just Kevin they were dealing with and Kevin was  _ that _ much of a little bitch, he didn’t think they were really in any danger currently. In public, where Kevin likely wouldn’t chance using his powers, Habit could easily take him. And, if he did use his powers, Noah (or, rather, Firebrand) could take him.

He didn’t think Kevin was stupid enough to use his powers in public, though.

Not that he knew Kevin, of course, but… Well. He didn’t  _ seem _ like he was that stupid.

He might be, though. That was a very real possibility. Glasses didn’t always mean you were smart. Hell, half the time they seemed to mean you were an idiot these days.

Fucking hipsters.

He happened to catch someone else staring after a moment, however - an older woman who looked like she was probably judging them. What a bitch. He was willing to bet it was the way Alex was dressed and the way none of them seemed to have any sense of personal space.

He had a plan.

He leaned over behind Alex, motioning at Noah subtly. Noah leaned over as well, eyebrow raised.

“See the lady over there?” Habit asked, making a vague motion toward her that was hidden by Alex’s body. When Noah flicked his eyes toward her, then back to him and nodded, he grinned. “Whaddaya say we give her something to judge?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Noah snorted, but leaned closer and placed the hand he was holding himself up with a little closer to Habit’s. Habit laid his hand on top of his, leaning in as well. A quick kiss, followed by a quick glance at the woman, and then they were laughing softly and giving each other another kiss. The look on her face was  _ so _ worth any awkwardness they might experience thinking about this later.

Alex pointedly ignored their antics by arching further over his new phone and pulling up his hood with a laugh.

They didn’t go out of their way to act like they were together, necessarily, but they did keep their current position and talk quietly, occasionally sharing a chaste kiss when they noticed someone staring at them. One or two people cheered for them, but most just gagged or looked away quickly with a scandalized expression.

He loved making people squirm. Made him feel powerful, ya know? Here in the past few months, especially. Probably had something to do with the meat and his neat physical changes. He’d been getting that weird power rush when he scared someone or made them deeply uncomfortable ever since he’d started eating the meat and they’d shown up, after all.

Around five they decided to grab an ice cream despite the sun’s rapid descent beneath the horizon. They walked around a bit, joked around, and ate their ice cream… And then it was time to head home. The sun was almost down and staying out wasn’t exactly the greatest idea right now. Less and less people being out and about just raised their chances of a confrontation with Kevin.

They didn’t need a confrontation with Kevin. Not with Alex there.

Honestly Habit wouldn’t even be worrying about it if not for Alex’s presence. He didn’t doubt that Firebrand could take care of the Observer, or that he himself could take care of Kevin. He might have been pretty short himself, but he had muscles and at least enough unnatural strength to weather a fight with that bespectacled twink if he didn’t go out of his way to use his powers.

They stopped at a diner regardless of his thoughts and headed inside for an early dinner. Sure, they’d eaten the hell out of the snacks that Habit had packed at the beach and it hadn’t been that long since they last ate, but Habit had always had an insatiable appetite, and it seemed that he was finally rubbing off on his roommates.

Alex managed to eat his entire meal with a good deal of gusto despite having eaten about six sandwiches at the beach less than an hour earlier. That was good. Habit was glad to see him actually eating again finally. For the first couple weeks he’d lived with them he’d stuck mostly to snacking or picking at his food but here he was now, shoveling food into his mouth like it was the first time he’d seen a burger and fries in three years.

Habit snorted at the mental comparison and shook his head. He ignored the raised eyebrow Noah gave him in favor of continuing to scarf down his own food.

Noah, meanwhile, ate like a civilized person, looking probably a thousand times more approachable to everyone in the diner than Habit and Alex combined just by virtue of the fact that he wasn’t eating like he was starving. He hadn’t eaten a whole lot at the beach, Habit had noticed, and it didn’t look like he planned on eating a whole lot here either.

Alex briefly excused himself to the bathroom, and Habit took the chance to lean a little closer to the rogue god. “You good?”

Noah quirked a brow, swallowing the bite of food he’d had in his mouth. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re picking at your food like it insulted your taste in music.” Habit explained, “In my experience that’s not how you usually eat.”

Noah’s wince at that told Habit he’d been hoping that he hadn’t noticed. He didn’t comment on it, waiting for Noah to explain, but he never did.

“What’s wrong?” He prompted.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Noah snapped almost immediately, posture tense, only to relax rather forcefully and sigh. “Nothing’s wrong,” He repeated, calmer, quieter, “I’m just… I dunno. Anxious, I guess. I know you saw him too.”

So this was about Kevin. Habit could understand that. Kevin was basically just a harbinger of woe, in Habit’s experience, so he could see why Noah would be anxious that he’d been around. So, though he wanted to, he didn’t tease him on it. He just nodded.

Noah seemed to relax a bit more, taking a deep breath. “I don’t want to fight him. Not with Alex around.” He said carefully, “Or at all, actually, but with the chance of him hurting Alex to get at us I really don’t want to chance anything.”

Habit nodded again, “I understand. That fucker’s bad news and, honestly? He lays a single fuckin’ finger on Alex and god or not he’s goin’ down.”

Noah’s lips twitched up into a smile.

Alex returned from the bathroom picking at the edges of his sleeves like he was nervous, but returned to eating like he wasn’t.

“You good?” Was the first thing out of Habit’s mouth.

Alex nodded, “Yeah, ‘m fine.” He said, mouth full. He paused to swallow, then continued, “Somebody saw the scratches, is all… And I just can’t freakin’ stand being looked at the way he looked at me.” There was a note of irritation in his voice, and then he was digging back into his food.

Habit chose to let the matter lie.

After a moment, Alex lifted his head and swallowed once more. “Also. Our house guest from earlier this month is lurking outside like a total creep. Just thought you ought to know.”

Noah tensed immediately. Habit didn’t have to see it. He  _ felt _ it.

“I’ll be right back.” Noah said after a moment, standing.

“Gonna run interference?” Habit questioned, moving out of his way.

“Something like that.” Noah mumbled, and Habit felt the sudden heaviness in the air that always came when Firebrand came out to play.

Alex shivered despite the heat radiating from Firebrand, and then the rogue god was walking swiftly toward the doors of the diner. Habit sat back down, sharing a look with the younger male across the table. They weren’t sure what was about to happen, but… Well. Habit could only hope that it wouldn’t end in another death scare. He could handle it, since he knew full well that Noah - sorry, Firebrand - wouldn’t stay dead for more than about half an hour, but Alex… Alex didn’t know that. He’d been told about most of the power issues and the cannibalism, sure, but no one had ever actually explained Firebrand’s immortality.

This could be an issue.

But only if Firebrand got hurt badly enough that he would need more than a couple minutes to heal up. Habit didn’t feel like that was very likely. Sure, the Observer was no doubt pretty powerful but…

Well, he’d never admit it out loud, but he was pretty confident in Firebrand’s abilities. And in his level of power in general. Firebrand was a god, after all, and he’d mentioned something about Swain and Deadhead saying he was stronger than they’d anticipated.

Firebrand may well have been the only god Habit was willing to believe in, although he’d never even dream of telling the guy that.

A few tense minutes passed. Alex picked at the remaining bites of his food. Habit did the same. The bell above the door jingled and Noah returned. Habit could tell it was Noah because he brought a rush of warm air with him without the crushing pressure that Firebrand had.

He stood to let Noah sit back down. He did so. Habit sat back down as well.

Noah quietly picked at the rest of his food, and it took Habit a long moment to realize that time appeared to have frozen around them. His eyebrow went up. Gaze snapped to Noah.

Noah, who appeared to be slightly out of breath, merely shrugged. “I’m buying us some time. Easier to stop it than to turn it back, anyways.”

“Do… Do we need to buy time?” Alex furrowed his brows.

“Well, I mean, I kind of set the Observer on fire and someone’s bound to notice him writhing in agony on the ground sooner or later. So I stopped time before I came back in. Far as anyone else will know I was never even here.” He shrugged again, soon finishing his food. “Humans are easy to manipulate when there’s a need for it.”

Habit saw Alex shiver at the implication.

Habit stood and allowed Noah to leave once more, and the guy did so without so much as a passing glance. He waltzed right back out the doors, heading toward Habit’s car. He ported into the passenger’s seat and simply sat there. Before time returned to its normal flow, Habit saw the tell-tale golden glow of something burning. And when time resumed, he watched it flicker for a moment before he decided to force down the last two or three bites of food on his plate.

As if taking that as encouragement, Alex did the same.

They shared a look.

“You okay, kiddo?”

“Noah is fucking  _ terrifying.” _ Alex said instead of giving a direct answer.

But it was answer enough, for Habit. Alex was shivering, shoulders up as if to cover his neck, back arched like he was about to curl in on himself, and he was completely refusing to make eye contact. Habit sighed and reached across the table to pat his shoulder. “He is,” He agreed, watching Alex’s eyes snap up, surprised. “Although I’m only admitting that because I know you ain’t gonna tell anybody,” He noted, “But regardless… Yeah. Noah’s pretty fucking terrifying. You know he wouldn’t ever hurt you, though, right?”

“I… I’d like to believe that, but…” Alex trailed almost guiltily.

“But you’ve seen him catch a man on fire with zero remorse? And then talk about doing it again like he was talking about the weather?” Habit suggested.

Alex nodded, fingers picking yet again at the edges of his sleeves. Habit knew he was doing it to avoid picking at his scabs. He just hummed.

A silence. “C’mon, let’s go pay and then we can go home.”

As usual, he felt this strange sense of satisfaction imagining the mansion as their home. He noticed Alex perked up just a bit at the suggestion.

They got up together, Habit paid for their meal, and they left. Alex skirted as far around Kevin (the Observer?) as he could and Habit pointedly ignored his wriggling and sad attempts at crawling. Someone else could call the police about this - not his department, after all.

Not to mention that he didn’t like the cops.

He started the car. Noah pried his eyes away from Kevin, and the fire on Kevin burnt out quickly. Habit ignored it. They left. Alex occupied himself in the back seat by curling up with his new phone.

“Think I should make new social media type stuff or just isolate myself from society?” He asked when they were about halfway home.

“Stay off social media,” Habit suggested before Noah could speak, “But don’t isolate yourself. If I were you I’d maybe pick out the people back home you think can keep their mouths shut and build up bonds with them. Very, very carefully, of course. I’d suggest Vinnie. Maybe Steph.”

He glanced at Noah to see if he had any input while Alex nodded in the back seat.

Noah simply stared straight ahead. He looked tired. Maybe a little weak. He’d used more of his power than he was willing to admit, it seemed, and he was paying the price for it.

Habit took a breath and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. He was thinking too much. He was thinking  _ way _ too much.


	30. Back Home, Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially this was going to be chapter 31, but I rearranged some things and now it's Chapter 30. Chapter 31 is already written since it was the last part of the 3-chapter split thing, and this was written afterwards. But whatever, enjoy!  
> EDIT: fixed some formatting issues that wouldn't let the rest of the chapter load. Sorry about that!

It was hard to believe that Habit had been gone for six months already, Lyra thought.

Six months was a long time to have gone without seeing her best friend, and admittedly she was pretty angry at him for vanishing, but she wasn’t _that_ angry, because he was okay and not dead like she may or may not have thought that he was, and now she had proof aside from Vin saying he’d talked to him. She didn’t think Vin was a liar, of course, but… Well. Vin did like to try and spare people’s feelings. She wouldn’t put it past him to come up with something like that in order to try and make her and everyone else feel better. The point was that Vinnie hadn’t been lying to spare her feelings and Habit really was alive and well.

It had been really nice getting to talk to him again the past month or so. She’d missed the hell out of him and by the looks of things he’d missed her just as much.

Her cheeks heated, however, at the memory of him telling her right off the bat that he’d had a crush on her for years, and that he’d never told her because he knew she liked Evan. The knowledge had, initially, made her feel somewhat guilty. But that was only until Habit came back online a while later and continued by saying that he’d been pretty pissed off when Evan told her he felt the same and they got together, but he was less angry at them than he was at himself for being a fucking coward. And then he finished with a comment about how he wasn’t sure he still felt the same way after being away for so long with only Noah to talk to.

She shook her head and leaned closer to Evan. He smiled and rested his head atop hers.

“Cutie.” She mumbled.

She practically felt him rolling his eyes. It made her giggle softly. He didn’t comment on it, though.

Instead, he said, “You ready to see all the others tonight?”

“Mhm. It’s gonna be weird without Alex there, though…” She frowned. “Jeff’s gotta be a mess right now.”

“Yeah…” Evan sighed. “We’ll just have to try and make sure he has a good time too. I managed to convince him to come.”

“I’m shocked.” Lyra admitted, “I didn’t expect him to actually agree.”

“Me either. I guess he probably just wants the company.”

“Could be.” She mused. “Or maybe he thinks that we know where Alex is and he’s gonna grill us about it.”

Evan winced a bit. “You think he’s with Hab?”

“I don’t know.” She replied, “But it’s definitely possible.”

“I doubt that Hab would give us a straight answer if we asked.” Evan grumbled, “Or actually tell the truth in the first place. Not to be a dick, of course, but we both know he’ll lie for people he likes.”

“He’ll lie even harder for people he loves.” Lyra agreed softly.

Evan hummed, nodding.

* * *

They had decided to have their New Years Party at Lyra’s home, because her dad was _loaded_ and she therefore had the best house for a party since it was practically a mansion. Okay, yeah, actually, redact the “practically”, the Jones family lived in an actual mansion. It was kind of trippy, honestly - Evan didn’t recall seeing literally any other mansions anywhere else in their town or the surrounding ones. Just the Jones Mansion.

Regardless, they’d decided that the Jones Mansion was the best place to have their party, and they’d been given run of the house because Mr. and Mrs. Jones had gone out to celebrate on their own. By the time that Evan actually got there, because Lyra had gone home to start setting up on her own, he found that his girlfriend had already commandeered the kitchen, living room, and foyer. She’d pulled out all of the spare blankets and pillows along with the air mattresses they kept around and turned the majority of the floorspace in the living room into one huge comfortable nest. She’d rearranged the furniture to block the nest in. He was willing to bet that was partially so that she could avoid cuddling anybody by claiming the couch instead of part of the nest.

The kitchen was packed with snacks and drinks, and he could smell at least one frozen pizza cooking in the oven. Meanwhile the foyer had received the furniture that didn’t fit in the nest border, mostly armchairs, which made it into a rather cozy looking room to be in when it was usually quite cold and menacing.

“Nice work.” He told her, “You need help with anything?”

“Just the pizzas.” She pushed up her glasses and smiled. “For now.” There was a playful note to her soft voice, and he didn’t doubt one bit that she intended to put him to work if there happened to be any heavy lifting. That was always either his job or Habit’s, and without Habit here…

He’d been doing a lot of heavy lifting the past six months.

About half an hour later, once the pizzas were done and cut, Vin had already arrived with Lexi, who was quickly becoming a part of their circle. Jessa had showed up as well, but no Jeff yet, and according to the last text Evan had gotten from her Steph was on her way.

Vin quietly left Lexi to the nest in the living room, where she seemed to be having a grand old time setting up shop for the time being, then pulled Evan and Lyra aside.

“Listen.” He said softly, “You can’t tell Jeff about this, but… Alex texted me earlier. From a different number, but it’s obviously him.”

Lyra sucked in a breath. Evan tensed reflexively.

“You’re absolutely sure?” Evan queried.

“Completely.” Vinny nodded, glancing around for a moment before pulling his phone out and showing them the most recent messages from the new number, which he had yet to name.

Unknown: [7:43 PM] _Hey Vin._

Unknown: [7:43 PM] _I know this is probably completely out of the blue for you and that the new number is gonna come off as weird, and you probably aren’t going to believe me, but this is Alex._

Unknown: [7:44 PM] _I know your first question is probably “where are you” but I can’t tell you that. Not because I don’t want to cuz believe me I really do but I don’t even know MYSELF 99% of the time where I am_

Unknown: [7:45 PM] _I’m safe, before you ask. Exhausted and almost constantly balls deep in a panic attack but safe_

V: [7:45 PM] _I have a lot of questions about this but first: “balls deep in a panic attack”??? XD_

Unknown: [7:45 PM] _yes_

V: [7:45 PM] _That’s beautiful_

V: [7:46 PM] _On to business. How do I know for sure you’re Alex?_

Unknown: [7:48 PM] _Good question tbh_

Unknown: [7:48 PM] _Guess you’ll just have t trust me. How’s Lexi?_

V: [7:49 PM] _Trusting you is unlikely._

V: [7:49 PM] _… Lexi’s fine. Christ on a bike just send me a selfie or something_

Unknown: [7:50 PM] _I dyed my hair but ok_

Unknown: [7:51 PM] Media content in this message.

Attached was a picture of Alex in what appeared to be a recliner, wrapped up in a blanket. His hair had, indeed, been dyed. It was poofy where it stuck out from under his beanie, and all pink and blue. His tongue was sticking out slightly, and honestly he looked more lighthearted and happy than Evan had seen him in months. He’d been absolutely miserable before he disappeared. He had tried to hide it, but everyone could tell that something was eating at him. He wouldn’t talk about it. Jeff wouldn’t either. But now he seemed to have gotten over whatever it was, which was good!

V: [7:54 PM] _Holy shit._

Evan related deeply to that sentiment, he had to admit. That was really the best way to put it. “Holy shit” just about covered everything he was thinking. And now his thoughts were rambling. Damn.

Unknown: [7:54 PM] _Yeaahhhhhhhhh_

Unknown: [7:54 PM] _Don’t tell Jeff?_

V: [7:59 PM] _I won’t_

And that was the end of the messages. Alex hadn’t texted back yet even though it was now 8:23.

“... Damn.” He finally said. Lyra nodded her mute agreement.

“Yeah.” Vin sighed. “I dunno how long I can keep this a secret from Jeff, but I’ll try for him. He looks so happy.” A ghost of a smile. “I haven’t seen him that happy since before Habit ran off with Noah.”

“Speaking of,” Lyra spoke up, “You think those two are celebrating? Or would they be too busy running from whatever they’re dealing with?”

“We could always ask.” Vinny pointed out, “He’s been awfully talkative lately, after all.”

“You have a very good point.” She hummed. “You wanna do that? You already have your phone out.”

Vinny snorted and rolled his eyes. “Sure.” He pressed the back button and went about doing that, then looked back at them, “While we’re waiting for that… I’ve got a totally unrelated question.”

“Shoot.” Evan encouraged.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a septum piercing - what do you guys think?”

“That’s this right here, right?” Evan raised a brow, poking the space between his nostrils. When Vinny nodded he grinned. “Hell yeah, go for it. You’ll look badass.”

Lyra pressed her lips together, seemingly thinking it through a little harder than he had. Finally she nodded, “Go for it.” She agreed, “I think it’d look good.”

Vinny smiled, “So that’s… Like five votes in favor of it, not counting my own, and only my mom’s vote of no. She’s been vetoed.”

“Can you actually veto her?” Evan’s eyebrows shot up, “Will she let you?”

“She said that if I could get at least two people to agree it’d look good that weren’t me she’d let me get it done.” Vin chuckled, “So technically yes. She might call you guys asking you to confirm your votes on it though.”

“I can’t speak for you, babes,” Evan carefully wrapped an arm around Lyra, making sure she was alright with it before he actually touched her, “But I think I can handle telling her that I think it’d look badass.”

“In those words, no doubt.” Lyra rolled her eyes, leaning against him.

“But of course.”

Vin’s phone went off.

H: [8:27 PM] _Hell yeah we’re celebrating New Years man_

H: [8:27 PM] _For real who the hell do you think I am? Somebody who doesn’t take every possible opportunity to eat and lounge around?_

Vinny snickered, showing the other two the messages before replying.

V: [8:27 PM] _Good point man, I was just wondering._

V: [8:28 PM] _What’re you and Noah up to?_

H: [8:29 PM] _I just ate a whole pizza by myself man. And as for Noah…_

H: [8:29 PM] Media content in this message.

Vinny wished he could say he was surprised to see the picture of Noah drinking straight out of a bottle of vodka, but he wasn’t.

H: [8:30 PM] _Also, look who came to visit!_ Photo attached.

Alex, caught mid-laugh, eyes screwed shut and leaning back in the very same recliner that he’d been in in his selfie. If he had been drinking anything, Vinny was sure he would have done a spit take. He was _not_ expecting that.

“What’s that face for?” Evan asked, concerned.

He showed him the picture and the message that came with it.

Lyra and Evan stared in mute silence. Vinny pulled his phone back to himself and did the same, swallowing hard.

V: [8:31 PM] _That’s great, Hab. How’s he doing?_

H: [8:31 PM] _Better than he was from what I can tell. Anyways vince, tell me: you got any new years resolutions?_

V: [8:32 PM] _That’s great! And just one_

H: [8:33 PM] _Care to share witht he class, bud?_

H: [8:33 PM] _* with the_

V: [8:33 PM] _Get a septum piercing._

H: [8:33 PM] Eyes emoji. Eyes emoji.  _your mom gonna let you do that????_

V: [8:34 PM] _Yep. But what about you? Got any resolutions?_

H: [8:34 PM] _Does having decided I’m gonna kiss the shit out of Maxwell at midnight count as a resolution cuz if not I got nothin_

V: [8:35 PM] _Wait for real???_

H: [8:35 PM] _For real_

“Jesus.” Vinny muttered. “I… I wasn’t expecting that.”

The front door being knocked upon prevented Lyra from staying to see what had been said as she went off, like a good hostess, to open it. Evan, however, stayed with him, raising his brows.

“What is it?”

“Apparently Hab plans on ‘kissing the shit’ out of Noah tonight.”

Evan spluttered, “He- He doesn’t even _like_ Noah, to my knowledge!”

“Right?!”

A glance at the now open door showed that Jeff and Steph had arrived at about the same time. Evan tensed slightly, then forced himself to relax. “That’s… Not what I expected to hear, but I mean… If he’s got romantic intentions I wish him the absolute best. He deserves to be happy.”

Vinny hummed in agreement, returning to the text conversation.

Evan went to greet Jeff, clapping him gently on the shoulder. They talked briefly, and Jeff seemed to be in a better place than he’d been in the last time that Evan had seen him. Definitely looked less worn-down. They moved to the kitchen and kept talking, warming back up to each other quickly as they started snacking. Evan made note of Jeff’s improved condition once he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Jeff merely shrugged, “I dunno, man. I just figure that if everything worked out okay for you and the ordeal with Habit… Maybe things will work out for me and Alex.” He shifted, “Besides. Got a text from a weird number today that I probably shouldn’t trust, but I can’t help trusting anyway.”

“Can I see it?”

Jeff offered his phone, and Evan immediately recognized the unknown number listed at the top of the text conversation as Alex’s new number.

Unknown: [7:43 PM] _Hello Jeff. I know this is very sudden. I know that it’s going to sound weird, and you probably won’t believe me, but I’m a friend. I just wanted to talk to you real quick, okay? I can’t tell you who I am but what I can tell you is that even though things seem bad right now, they’ll get better. You’ll find your brother one day, I promise. I’ll be seeing to it myself, as a matter of fact. Just trust Alex and know that he’s safe right now, and trust that things will work out in the end. Stay safe, and don’t do anything that Lyra wouldn’t._ -Crown emoji

Jeff hadn’t messaged back, but Evan wasn’t surprised. Knowing Jeff he didn’t know what to say, or wanted another opinion before he messaged back and made a fool of himself. Evan handed the phone back with a neutral hum.

“You know the number?” Jeff asked somewhat hopefully.

“All I know is that Vin got a weird message from that number around the same time you did.” Evan said carefully. “I wouldn’t trust it blindly, but like… Go with your gut, y’know? What’s your gut say about this?”

“My gut says I should trust it.” Jeff admitted, “So I’m sorely tempted to.”

“Instinct is rarely wrong.” Lexi’s voice wasn’t one they expected, but she pottered past them with a meek smile, “Forgive me for overhearing.”

“It’s cool, man.” Evan said, and Jeff nodded in agreement, “If we didn’t want anybody to overhear we wouldn’t be talking about it out in the open.”

They both gave her grins to reassure her, and she seemed to relax a bit.

She grabbed a drink and moved back into the foyer, claiming one of the chairs for herself. Evan and Jeff discussed the current situation a little bit more, at length, before following her lead. Soon enough everyone was gathered together in the foyer, and after they finished eating (for the most part) they all migrated as one to the living room. Jeff and Jessa claimed a spot on one of the mattresses and got cozy, and Vin and Lexi did the same. Steph snagged an armchair for herself and gracelessly stole a blanket from behind Jessa, sticking her tongue out at her when she gave a little shout of complaint.

Jessa stuck her tongue out at her in return and hit her with a pillow.

Evan and Lyra decided to take the couch, and Evan had to admit he was extremely pleased when Lyra pushed him into laying down and laid on top of him. He was a pretty tactile guy (he and Habit both were - it was one of the few things they still had in common) and undoubtedly a cuddlebug, so being able to cuddle with his typically rather touch-repulsed girlfriend was something of a blessing.

They turned on the TV at about 10:30 and sat talking quietly amongst themselves until about 11:45 when Lyra, too comfortable to move, told Vinny, who was closer to the remote, to change the channel so they could watch the ball drop. Vinny complained good naturedly about her laziness even as he did as she asked. Evan snickered and nuzzled into her hair, holding her a little closer. She grumbled something that he didn’t quite catch and contentedly allowed his nuzzling.

They watched the TV idly for a few minutes before Steph spoke up rather suddenly, which was out of character. “Jeff, if you don’t move quick enough I’m kissing your girlfriend at midnight.”

Jeff choked on a laugh, as did Jessa.

“I mean, if she’s okay with it…” Jeff trailed, causing Jessa to laugh harder.

Steph smiled, and when Evan and Vin snickered she turned on them, “Hey, if you’re not careful I’ll kiss yours too.”

That made Lyra snort out a laugh, immediately covering her mouth to hide it. Lexi just bit her lip in a smile.

“What if  _ we’re _ not careful?” Lexi posed the question after a moment.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’ll kiss your boyfriends.”

Jessa dissolved into laughter once more.

“Wonder who Habit would have kissed if he was here.” Jeff mused.

“Probably you.” Jessa teased, causing him to turn red.

“Or Vin.” Steph pointed out. “Or pretty much anybody else here. Only person I don’t think he’d kiss is Evan.”

“He might even kiss me.” Evan chortled, “Just to make us all squirm.”

When the countdown started, they counted along. Vin and Lexi turned to each other, smiling. Lyra lifted her head to look at Evan with a small grin. He grinned back. Steph, true to her word, prepared herself to jolt down and kiss Jessa if Jeff wasn’t fast enough. Jessa could barely contain her giggles.

“Three…” All of them said as one, “Two… One!”

Jeff ended up not moving fast enough, so Steph leaned down and pulled Jessa into a quick kiss - just a peck on the lips, nothing invasive. Vin and Evan moved quicker, planting kisses on their girlfriends before Steph could even think of moving to them. Jessa pulled away from the kiss with Steph still giggling, leaning over to give Jeff a kiss as well.

Without discussing it, those on the mattress nest got up, as did Steph, and as only true friends could do they all proceeded to give each other a kiss. Evan’s kisses with Vinny and Jeff were quicker than even the one Steph had given Jessa, ending in laughter from all three of them because of how quick he moved away. Vin and Jeff couldn’t even manage to  _ attempt _ a kiss with each other without laughing, so they just went for each other’s cheeks. Lyra managed to get through the ordeal without imploding, but she didn’t seem near as uncomfortable once it was over as Evan would have expected. She also didn’t seem to mind him having kissed Steph, who he had very much had a crush on before and still kind of did, as much as he had expected her to.

“Happy New Year.” Evan mumbled to her, giving her another kiss.

She smiled. “I feel like should be mad that you just kissed three other girls and two guys, but I mean… So did I.”

“You say that like I made out with them or something.” He snickered.

“Like you wouldn’t given half the chance.” She teased.

“Don’t get me confused with Habit.” He shot back with another snicker.

She just giggled while he grabbed his phone out of his pocket, as it had gone off earlier and he wanted to check on it.

H: [12:01 AM] _ Happy New Year bro. Tell everybody for me _

H: [12:01 AM] _ Also be sure to show this to Vin. _ Photo attached.

Evan barely suppressed a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a noise of surprise at the picture. He did as he was told, though, and only managed to laugh when the reactions received from Vin and the others upon seeing it ranged from Jeff giving a whooping cheer to Steph practically fainting from surprise. Vin cheered as well and told him to congratulate Habit for him.

He did.


	31. New Years Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Recreational drug use in this chapter. It's not the worst thing to happen in this story but I know people who are comfortable with violence and way less so with drug use so I figured I'd mention it. It's just Habit smoking weed, though, which has been referenced before on more than one occasion.

When they arrived home, the first thing Noah did was walk directly into his parents’ home rather than the mansion. Habit chose not to question it as he followed him into the house, and Alex followed him, absorbed with typing out what appeared to be a very long text at a number he didn’t manage to catch before Alex claimed his usual chair in the living room. Habit decided to let the matter lie. He knew Alex tended to get a little wordy with his texts, and he knew he was planning on texting Vinny, so it was reasonable to assume that was what was going down.

Instead he followed Noah into the kitchen and watched with only vague bemusement as Noah pulled a beer out of the fridge the moment he’d opened it. In true alcoholic fashion, he managed to pop the lid off without a bottle opener. Just his hands. He downed the whole bottle in one swig and threw it into the trash can, grabbing another.

He threw a glance at Habit at last. “You want one?”

“Sure.”

He popped the one in his hand open and slid it toward Habit across the table between them. Habit accepted it, and once Noah had opened a new one for himself Habit raised his in a brief toast. Noah rolled his eyes but raised his bottle as well. Habit took a large swig from his, made a face while he swallowed, and shook his head as if to clear it.

Noah couldn’t help laughing.

Habit shot him a dirty look, but it dissolved into a smile very quickly. “You have any idea how long it’s been since I had a beer?”

“I can assume it’s been a while.” Noah took a swig of his own beer, “Longer than it’s been since I had one, at least, judging by the reaction.”

Habit shrugged. “I’ve never been much of a beer guy.”

“More of a weed guy.” Noah agreed, “I remember.”

Habit nodded and took another drink of his beer, relieved when his reaction to it was considerably less violent. “So, can gods actually get drunk?” He asked, genuinely curious despite the teasing tone.

“Dunno... I intend to find out, though.” Noah swigged the rest of the bottle and threw it toward the trash can, grinning to himself when it hit the edge, bounced, and through some small miracle made it into the can. He grabbed another beer out of the fridge with a hum. After some consideration, he sat that beer on the table and grabbed one of the larger bottles he’d put in there at random. Vodka. Awesome. “How drunk are you planning on getting?”

“Not very?” Habit shrugged. “I tend to fall asleep when I get drunk so tipsy is the best place for me. I’m tired as shit.”

“Don’t suppose some weed would keep you awake?” Noah raised a brow.

“Depends on if it’s Sativa or Indica.” Habit took a drink, “Sativa blends keep me up even after I come down from the high. Indica blends knock me the hell out within ten minutes.”

Noah blinked at him. “You… You wanna maybe tell me what the difference is? I’m really not a weed dude so I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure.” Habit sat his beer down. “Ignoring the difference in how they look, Sativa has a higher concentration of THC than Indica does. The high you get off of a Sativa weed is energizing and uplifting. Awesome for creativity, too, and probably best used during the day since it’s so energizing. Indica is more sedating. It gives you some serious full-body relaxation and it’s fuckin’ amazing for when you just wanna wind down and be in your head for a while.” He explained, “Also, Sativa blends are great for depression and other mental ailments while Indica blends are typically better suited for physical ones like chronic pain. Issue is that Sativa blends can make you really anxious and paranoid so they’re not always the best for anxiety.” He blinked. “... That was longwinded. Sorry.”

“It’s all good.” Noah assured him. “You wanna get high tonight?”

“I always wanna get high.” Habit snorted, “What kind of question is that?”

“Requests?” A quirked brow.

Noah certainly seemed to be feeling better. He guessed the very faint buzz of alcohol probably had something to do with that. He wasn’t actually buzzed or tipsy yet, not even close, but there was still a level of relaxation coming with the very idea that he’d been drinking. Ingrained response.

“Haze Berry is typically my go-to, gotta be honest.” He admitted. “Doesn’t keep me up as well as, say, Strawberry Cough or Sour Diesel, but it definitely makes me more pleasant to be around.”

“What are you, some kind of cannabis connoisseur?” Alex asked, asmused, as he entered the kitchen, likely looking for a drink and not looking to purposely listen in on their conversation.

Habit grinned. “Something like that. I used to deal, anyway. Gotta know my stuff.”

Noah managed, with some difficulty, to summon a bag of the requested type, tossing it at Habit. “That the right one?”

Habit caught it mid-way through setting his beer down. He sniffed it briefly, grinned, and nodded. “Yep.” He held it out toward Alex, “Sniff, kiddo.”

Alex hesitated, but obeyed after a moment. Blinking in what appeared to be pleasant surprise he said, “I thought weed was supposed to stink.”

There was a hearty laugh from Habit as he sat the bag down on the table, “Only some blends. Haze Berry and most other berry blends have that nice, sweet, fruity aroma. Sour Diesel, though? Sour Diesel is the reason I had to quit smoking and selling.”

Alex nodded his understanding, then moved away to search the cabinets, examining the brands of soda they had available. Sure, he already knew what there was to drink, but he wasn’t actually sure what he wanted.

“You’re gonna need something to smoke that with, too, aren’t you?” Noah inquired after a long moment, feeling somewhat foolish for not having already thought of it.

“Well yeah.” Habit snorted, “I might still have a hitter in my room somewhere but it’s a fuckin’ mystery  _ where _ in my room it is if it’s there at all.”

Noah gave a quick nod and gathered the necessary items - namely a hitter and a lighter. Offering them to Habit, he felt… Strange. Sure, they’d done all sorts of other illegal shit already, cannibalising not one but  _ two _ human corpses and being personally responsible for the murder of one of those corpses included, but for whatever reason the idea that Habit was about to smoke pot in his house made him anxious.

Well. To be fair, he thought, they were all much more likely to be smoking pot, being teenagers and all, and under normal circumstances they’d be much more likely to get caught for it. As it was he could just transport them all to the mansion if they needed to avoid the cops. And, as he’d mentioned concerning the drinking issue, some recreational drug use would be the least of their problems if the cops happened to catch them.

Alex paused in his endeavor to find a drink, looking to Noah and his bottles of beer and vodka with a raised brow. “I didn’t realize that the plan for tonight was for you two to get faded.”

Noah felt somewhat sheepish. “I mean, it doesn’t just have to be us.”

Alex made a face for a second, then shook his head. “You know, considering I’ve literally eaten human flesh I don’t see why I have such an issue with possibly getting high or drinking.” Another shake of his head. “I’m really not much of a drinker, though. Can’t stand the taste of straight alcohol.” At Noah’s raised brow, “Underage drinking on private property is legal in New Jersey. Jeff and I used to steal dad’s beers.”

Well that was news to Noah. “Really?”

“Yeah. With or without parental consent. It’s also legal if it’s for religious or educational purposes, as a medical treatment, or if you’re drunk and reporting that another drunk minor is having an emergency.” Alex said sheepishly. “We did our research on it because of an assignment Jeff had in middle school.”

“... You happen to know the law in Florida?” Noah raised his brow once more.

Alex thought about it, chewing on the inside of his lip. “If, and this is a big if, I remember correctly, the law for Florida was that underage drinking is only legal if it’s for educational purposes.”

Noah cursed under his breath.

Alex laughed.

Habit snorted from the table, shaking his head. He grabbed his beer back off the table, tipped it all the way back, and drained the last of the bottle in one go. Probably not his best idea, he’d admit. He didn’t doubt there’d be serious repercussions had he drank more than one bottle. As it was he wasn’t likely to even get a buzz - he might not be a beer guy, but he wasn’t a total lightweight.

He watched Alex finally decide on a Pepsi, straightening up from where he’d knelt in the midst of popping the tab on the can. He suppressed a chuckle. Of course Alex would go for a Pepsi rather than anything else. He always was a sucker for colas, Habit had noticed. Only drank Pepsi or Coke half the time and only really drank grape soda the other half.

He grabbed his hitter, bag, and lighter and followed Alex when he left the room. He heard Noah follow behind him as well.

Quickly claiming his usual spot on the couch, Habit laid out his supplies on the table. It had been a few years since the last time he’d done this, but he still remembered exactly what he was doing. Noah had, blessedly, conjured him a bag that had already been ground up, so that was one step he could skip. He quickly loaded up a hitter. Before Noah or Alex really had a chance to process that he’d already finished that step he was lighting up and taking a hit. Both of them stared quietly as he held the breath in for a long moment, then released it slowly.

_ Woo, _ he  _ loved _ the way that the high seemingly started coming on almost immediately. He’d really missed that. The faint buzzing in his body until the actual high came was always one of his favorite parts… But maybe he was just weird. It wasn’t like he’d ever discussed that with anybody. He had usually had other concerns when he was talking to the folks he used to smoke with. Like them paying him, or him paying them, or one or more of them having to fly under the radar for a while to avoid detection.

He hadn’t actually talked to any of his old weed buddies since he stopped smoking, but he wasn’t exactly surprised. None of them had been steady friends - nor had they really been all that reliable or loyal. He stopped smoking and they dropped him like a hot potato. But, if he still smoked, he probably would have done the same thing when one of them quit, so he really wasn’t all that mad about it.

He put it out of his mind and sat back with a smile, trying to focus on the buzzing that was building already. Man he’d missed this.

“Man that’s fruity.” Alex commented, scrunching his nose slightly.

“I never thought I’d be nearly sneezing all over the place from blueberry scented anything, but here I am.” Noah added, then proceeded to sneeze three times in quick succession.

Habit would have laughed regardless of the situation, but probably not as hard. Alex quietly joined him, then jumped at the sound of his new phone going off.

“Who ya textin’, kiddo?” Habit inquired.

“Vinny.” Alex replied.

Habit hummed and quietly went through the motions of turning on Netflix. There were still a few hours before midnight, after all - might as well kill the time. Or at least put on something in the background.

He looked over at Noah, sitting less than five feet from him. He felt the distinct need for cuddles.

He scooted closer, watching Noah raise an eyebrow. When he was close enough, he laid his head on Noah’s shoulder with a grin. Noah stared at him, expression neutral, for a long moment. Just as Habit was about to get uncomfortable and move, Noah’s shoulders relaxed and he gave a smile in return. His arm wrapped around Habit’s waist.

Habit purred, very much aware he was doing so and completely unabashed.

He spent the next hour or so snuggled up to Noah, even as he felt the actual high hit him, making his brain thrum pleasantly. Haze Berry didn’t get him quite as concentrated as other blends, nor did it actually provide as much energy as other blends, particularly Strawberry Cough, but it was still his favorite… Partially because it made him a very pleasant person to be around. He got giggly and chatty as hell and was generally in a very good mood when high off Haze Berry. On the downside it made him a little dizzy, but, hey, what good high didn’t?

Oh. And it made him hornier than a bitch in heat, but he had a pretty good cap on that if he did say so himself. He wasn’t humping Noah’s leg yet, at the very least. And Noah hadn’t noticed he’d been about half-hard for the past half hour, either.

It was the little victories, you know?

Now, obviously he had to briefly separate from Noah to take another hit somewhere in the middle of that because he wasn’t letting the high go that easy after two years of being totally clean, but he snuggled right back up to him, prompting both Noah and Alex to laugh at him. He just laughed with them, unable to be offended even in the slightest that they were getting a kick out of his touchy-feeliness.

Not that he probably would have been too bothered under normal circumstances, but whatever. He was in a different headspace right now and thinking was… Weird.

Thinking was always weird because he just stared into space and listened to a voice in his head that wasn’t his but also wasn’t anybody else’s saying things that he was thinking, but it was even weirder when he was high because he started thinking about the way that he thought and the voice in his head that wasn’t his or anybody else’s. He shook his head and tried to get comfortable…

Just in time for his stomach to grumble. He huffed and got up, going to the kitchen. At some point Noah had conjured up a bunch of random snacks and meal-type foods, and Alex had been intermittently snacking on chips and eating burritos. Sure, they’d already done plenty of eating today, and really not all that long ago either, but Alex needed to put on weight and Habit was high. Not that he wouldn’t have eventually gotten bored and started eating anyway, that was, but he was just more likely to eat  _ more _ when he was high.

He ate a whole pizza by himself.

He headed back into the living room and flopped onto the couch. He cuddled up to Noah, trying once more to get cozy...

Only to be interrupted by his phone going off. He made a rather affronted noise and sat up to grab it. Who the hell was texting him?

Oh. Vinny.

He smiled.

[8:26 PM]  _ You guys celebrating new years? _

Man, what kind of question was that? It was like Vinny had never met him before! He laughed softly to himself, cuddling back up to Noah as he tapped out a response. Then another. Oh, what was he up to? He sat up to answer that one, laughing some more as he told Vinny that he’d eaten a whole pizza. He purposely trailed on what Noah was doing. And then he snapped a picture of Noah mid-swig of his vodka, sending it to Vinny without hesitation.

With only some hesitation, as he didn’t know what Alex had told Vinny about where he was and what was going on, he snapped a picture of Alex, whom he’d caught mid-laugh at the show he had on in the background.

[8:30 PM]  _ Also, look who came to visit! _

He attached the photo and sent it.

Of course Vinny asked how Alex was doing. He told him that he was doing better. And then, to change the subject so he wouldn’t spill anything that Alex didn’t want Vinny knowing, he asked Vinny if he had any New Year’s resolutions. Vinny was glad about Alex’s situation, but thankfully took the bait and went along with the subject change, admitting to having one.

He very nearly did a spit take when Vin responded to his prompting about it, and by very nearly he meant that had he been drinking anything it definitely would have happened, but since he wasn’t, it didn’t. A septum piercing, huh? Damn, he’d never really even expected Vinny to want one of those! And he was shocked at the very idea that Vin’s mom would let him get one. So he asked about it, and Vin told him that, yes, she was going to let him. And then Vin returned the question about New Year’s resolutions.

Habit decided to be honest, even as his cheeks heated slightly. He had to admit to himself, though he didn’t particularly want to, that he had a bit of a thing for Noah as of late, and he was still horny, so he had only one thing on his mind… That being making out with Noah at some point tonight. Preferably midnight. Because that’d be romantic, wouldn’t it? A nice New Year’s makeout session.

He was expecting Vinny’s disbelief at his admission that he planned to kiss the shit out of Noah at midnight, and responded as casually as he could, given his genuine embarrassment and vague discomfort.

Not much more talking was done after that, which was fine. He didn’t really mind all that much. It was nice to have done any talking with Vinny in the first place. Now if only the others would message him, damn.

He snuggled a little closer to Noah, depositing his phone on the couch cushion next to them in favor of wrapping his arms around Noah’s trunk and giving a light squeeze. He heard Noah snort softly, wrapping an arm around him, and he could almost feel the amused eye roll. He ignored everything except the increased contact, which once more made him purr.

“Would you purr louder if I scratched your head?” Noah wondered aloud.

“Only one way to find out,” Habit replied fairly cheerily, snickering.

Almost immediately Noah’s hand was on his head, blunt nails carefully scratching at his scalp. Oh, damn, he was turning into a cat. He had to be. Why would that feel so nice otherwise?

He leaned into the touch and, indeed, began to purr louder.

“You’re adorable,” Both Noah and Alex informed him at about the same time.

Both of them paused, and he glanced between them only to find they were just sort of staring at each other, barley suppressing smiles. And then they dissolved into laugher and he contentedly stayed mostly quiet while Noah continued to scratch his head. A couple little chuckles slipped out, but nothing like the chortles that came from them.

“Damn right I am,” He said once they stopped laughing.

They started laughing again, and this time he joined a little more wholeheartedly, although he still laughed less because his vocal chords insisted on making him purr instead of laugh or talk. That was fine, though.

When Noah inevitably stopped scratching him, his eyes had fallen closed and he’d started to fall into thought. With the ceasing of the motion, however, his eyes snapped back open, and a noise he didn’t quite have a name for escaped him. He knew what it was called, but he couldn’t remember it right now. It was a sound cats made, he knew that much. Everything else was a blank.

Oh, yeah. A trill. That little noise somewhere between a meow and a purr.

Damn that was embarrassing, but whatever. It wasn’t like he cared if he did embarrassing shit in front of Alex and Noah. Not right now at least. And he wouldn’t care very much even if he wasn’t high, he had to admit, because, really, he trusted them enough not to mind.

Man, that felt weird. Admitting he trusted Noah and Alex felt weird. He was sure that actually telling them would feel even weirder, though. That was something he just didn’t do. Not under normal circumstances. He could admit he trusted people, but telling them to their face or actually acknowledging it was always a strange feeling.

He ended up taking another hit, snuggling back up to Noah the moment that he got the chance. Noah chuckled softly at his eagerness to resume the contact. He stuck his tongue out at him. Noah just chuckled again.

The next three or so hours were, admittedly kind of blurry. He didn’t remember much happening, likely because very little actually happened. He spent the majority of the time curled into Noah’s side or eating. He didn’t take another hit, choosing instead to ride out his high and snicker about his continued arousal that persisted even after he sobered. Maybe Haze Berry hadn’t been the best plan. Oh well. It wasn’t like he’d never had to deal with a boner before.

He was 18, for fuck’s sake. He’d had plenty of boners he couldn’t do anything about. This was really no different.

“Are we going to watch the ball drop?” Alex asked around 11:30, bringing Habit fully into the present.

“If we have functioning TV?” Noah quirked a brow, “Hell yeah. If not the answer’s definitely a no unless there’s a live YouTube feed of it.”

“Guess now’s a good time to check on both possibilities.” Habit spoke up, seemingly to the surprise of the other two.

They seemed to put their surprise aside, however, and Noah grabbed the TV remote while Alex unlocked his phone. Habit left them to it, getting up and heading to the kitchen for a drink. While out of sight of the others he re-adjusted himself in his pants so his slight erection wouldn’t be too obvious when he returned to the living room.

Just like the energy he got from a high persisted long after he sobered, the arousal did too if that was one of the effects. His body clung to those reactions like they were lifelines. He didn’t know why, and to his knowledge that wasn’t how it usually worked for other people.

He grabbed a soda at random and returned to the living room.

Oh, hey, they  _ did _ have TV. That was neat. Meant there were probably shows airing on actual TV that he could watch - he didn’t know  _ what _ but he was sure there was  _ something. _ If nothing else he could just watch Steven Universe, or something. He’d heard it was a good show.

He flopped back onto the couch with Noah as he surfed the channels for one of the News stations who streamed it. They came upon one at about 11:38 and settled in. Habit had been to Times Square once, actually. Just once. It had been in the middle of June, though, so it had likely been a markedly different experience than it would have been if he went on New Year’s Eve.

The minutes ticked by. Alex was practically vibrating. Habit grabbed his phone in preparation for the New Year’s text he’d have to throw at Evan. Noah shifted, chewing on his bottom lip.

The second the countdown started, something shifted in the room. The air became heavier, but not in the way it did when Firebrand was around. In a more pleasant way. Alex murmured the numbers, but Noah and Habit remained quiet.

Habit’s body was tense, focus less on the countdown and more on his plans. He opened the camera app.

_ 7, 6, 5… _

He straightened a bit.

_ 4, 3, 2… _

He turned to Noah.

_ 1! _

He grabbed him and kissed him hard, and only when Noah overcame the initial shock and began to kiss back did he lift his phone and snap a picture of them. He wanted to keep that. Just in case whatever this was he felt for Noah didn’t work out. Or just in case it did.

When the temptation to turn the makeout session into something more became nearly overwhelming he pulled back. He swallowed, forcing a grin, “Happy New Year.”

Noah stared at him for a second. “... Happy New Year.” He finally said in return.

Habit turned to Alex, who was valiantly suppressing his reaction, but upon being looked at he began to laugh. Habit shook his head with a laugh of his own, tension melting out of his frame due mostly in part to the distraction. He left the camera app and opened his messaging app.

[12:01 AM] _ Happy New Year bro. Tell everybody for me _

[12:01 AM]  _ Also be sure to show this to Vin _

He attached the picture of him and Noah, perking up a little more when he realized he’d actually gotten a good one.

“Happy New Year,” He finally threw at Alex, who just started laughing again.

“Yeah, Happy New Year to you too.” Alex managed, “And you too Noah.”

“Yeah, you too.” Noah replied.

His phone went off.

[12:03 AM]  _ You got one hell of a cheer for that. Vin says congrats _

He paused to smile at that, and his phone went off again in his hand.

[12:03 AM] _ and a happy New Year to you too, from all of us _

The smile turned into a grin.

Soon enough, Alex went to bed, bidding them goodnight and still in a much better mood than Habit could really summon an explanation for. He didn’t bother asking, though.

Alex, of course, knew the cause was the texts he currently still had open as he headed upstairs to his room.

J: [8:46 PM]  _ My brain is telling me that I shouldn’t trust you, but my gut tells me you’re right. I hope to god you are. _

A: [12:00 AM]  _ Happy New Year, Jeff. I hope that it treats you well.  _ -Crown emoji

J: [12:04 AM]  _ Happy new year to you, too. _

It made him smile again as he flopped onto his bed and placed the phone on his nightstand.

Back downstairs, Noah waited until Alex had disappeared and his door had clicked shut to turn to Habit once more.

“So what the fuck was that?” He asked.

Habit shifted slightly. “What the fuck was what?” He asked in return, trying (and likely failing) to appear unruffled.

“Don’t play dumb with me you little shit.” Noah sighed.

“I’ll play whatever I want.” Habit looked away, internally cringing because fighting with Noah actually wasn’t what he wanted to do right now.

Silence.

“I hate you sometimes, you know that?” Noah finally asked, but before Habit could reply he was talking again, “Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I wanted to.” Habit shrugged, thankful that Noah was putting his irritation aside for the most part and giving him a question he could answer without embarrassing himself, for the most part.

“But why, though?”

And there he went making it difficult again. Habit suppressed his sigh and shrugged instead, “I just wanted to, okay? You can’t tell me you haven’t ever just wanted to kiss somebody for no reason except for the sake of doing it.”

Noah seemed to consider that for a moment before actually accepting it with an almost exasperated looking nod. “That’s fair enough, I guess. But what I’m getting at here is I thought it might have something to do with the boner you’ve had all night.”

“Well I mean,” Habit said with a laugh, “It was certainly a motivating factor. But it wasn’t the whole reason.”

“Fair enough.” Noah frowned slightly regardless, “Why are you hard anyway?”

He shrugged. “Haze Berry makes me horny.”

Noah made a choked noise.

Habit laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to put this up on Tuesday, but I decided to wait partially because the chapter still needed spell-checking and other additional work that I couldn't put in seeing as I was cramming to finish a research paper in time for the due date tomorrow and that, as a rule, took priority over fanfiction. As that paper now only requires spell checking and some minor alterations, though, I went ahead and finished fixing this chapter.  
> So that's the reason for the delay  
> Regardless, hope you enjoyed the chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it (although the weed stuff made me anxious while I was researching it). Also, in regards to Habit's body holding onto the energy and arousal from a high... This reaction is based on how someone I know (not naming names) reacts to highs. Their body clings to the energy from it for hours after the high fades. It also holds onto arousal, and on occasion it clings to feelings of paranoia and anxiety if they experience them.


	32. Arrangment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is about 98% smut, 0.5% plot, and 1.5% fluff. If you're uncomfortable with that please move along quietly to the end of the chapter where I will summarize what happened for you.

Unsurprisingly, Habit’s admission inevitably led to Noah asking if he wanted some help taking care of that issue. He also questioned why he was still hard considering the high would have, logically, faded by then. He answered with a yes to the first question, then merely shrugged and said he wasn’t sure, he just knew his body liked to hang on to certain reactions.

Noah accepted the answer, and before long they found themselves, as per usual, in Habit’s room. Noah complacently allowed Habit to push him down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around him once he joined him. The very idea that Noah had to _allow_ him to do this, that he couldn’t take what he wanted forcibly, admittedly got Habit going a little bit. He might have loved being in power, but the thought of dominating something that much more powerful than he was… That was hot.

Consent was hot, too, and the fact was that there was no way for Noah not to consent, unless he just didn’t give consent but didn’t fight what was happening.

Not something he could really imagine Noah doing with him. Noah knew he could say no. This had all started on an entirely voluntary basis and it had been Noah’s idea in the beginning. He likely wasn’t expecting it to eventually turn into them being fuck buddies, but still. He could take back his consent and Habit was sure he knew that.

He kissed him, of course, as he settled between Noah’s legs. He bit at his bottom lip, mindful of his own teeth and careful to only use the front. Noah might not mind pain, and Habit might like to inflict it, but if it was going to happen he wanted it to be on purpose. Noah parted his lips for him at the bite, allowing a soft sound of appreciation to escape him as he did.

Habit would have grinned, but found his mouth was a bit too busy to do so as he slid his tongue into Noah’s mouth. Their tongues met, and Habit allowed himself a moment or two to get reacquainted with that undoubtedly fiery and somewhat earthy taste Noah had. He tasted like hickory smoke and some kind of root vegetable and of course he still had the taste of vodka in his mouth. He tasted familiar but mysterious at the same time and it was just the right mixture to keep Habit coming back for more because, to be honest...

Habit was addicted.

He couldn’t explain why, likely wouldn’t even try if asked, but he knew it was the truth. He was addicted to the way Noah tasted, first and foremost, but he was also rather addicted to kissing him, with or without the taste being involved. It was pleasant, it felt _right,_ like going home after a long day felt right, and if he had to guess he’d say that probably meant he was in love.

He pulled away from Noah’s lips with only the barest hints of reluctance. He’d happily lay here and kiss him for the rest of eternity, if he could, but his own mortality (and his impatient boner) demanded otherwise. His lips kissed their way from Noah’s lips down to his neck, and Noah gave a purr, tilting his head to give him more room. Something like pride swelled in Habit’s chest, and he let it run its course as he nibbled on the exposed skin.

“You’re awfully romantic today.” Noah noted, voice hushed and amused.

“There an issue with that?” Habit lifted his head long enough to raise an eyebrow at him before he dipped back down and decided he was going to give him a hickey. Whether it stayed or not would depend on Noah, but he’d still have at least the temporary satisfaction.

“No,” Noah admitted, grip temporarily tightening when Habit bit down rather firmly. “No, there’s no issue. I like it, actually. It’s a nice change.”

Habit smiled into his neck. “And if I was like this more often?”

“You trying to imply something?”

“Maybe.” He kept his tone even, littering kisses over and around the small hickey he’d already given him. No need to keep talking if he didn’t have to. No need to embarrass himself. Emotions weren’t his thing and if he could avoid attempting to express them that’d be great.

“... If you were like this more often I still wouldn’t have any complaints.” Noah finally said, “I could get used to this.”

Habit hummed in reply to that, working on another, bigger hickey. Finally he found something to say. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Someone call the media.” Noah uttered jokingly.

Habit bit him. He laughed.

“Sorry,” He said, “Please continue. What have you been thinking about?”

Habit rolled his eyes, “Why aren’t we dating?” He asked plainly.

Noah made a choked noise, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Why aren’t we dating?” He repeated calmly. He’d been expecting a reaction like that, to be honest. So instead of elaborating for the time being, he went back to littering Noah’s neck with kisses. It was easier than trying to express why his mind went down that path. He still needed to think how to explain it.

Noah was silent for a while, and Habit pushed his nervousness down by concentrating on Noah’s neck a little harder.

“I’m not sure,” Noah finally said. “I suppose probably because one or both of us never thought the other was interested in a relationship. Dunno, though.” Another short silence as Habit considered that. “Why do you ask, Hab? You’re usually not this talkative.”

“Well, while we were makin’ out, I got to thinking…” He pressed a kiss to his neck once more. He really had some kind of fixation today, it seemed. “We kissed a lot, today. Er, yesterday, now, actually. Whatever. And all that acting like a couple… You just get to wondering, y’know?”

Noah hummed. “I guess I see where you’re coming from on that one.” He admitted.

Habit took a breath. Now or never. “You wanna give it a shot?”

“Being together?”

“Yeah.”

“... Sure.” Noah grabbed Habit’s hair and pulled him up to his face. Habit went along willingly, a pleasant tingle going through him at the hair-pulling. “Now shut up and fuck me.” Noah all but growled before he pulled him into a kiss.

Habit really didn’t need to be told twice. He kissed back with just as much fervor as Noah put into it, body positively thrumming with energy. His fingers caught on the hem of Noah’s shirt, tugging it upwards. They broke apart long enough for him to discard it, then his own, and then they were kissing again. His lips soon retraced their previous path down to Noah’s neck, and he nipped one of the hickeys he’d left before making his way to the old bite scar on the junction between Noah’s neck and shoulder. He carefully scraped his teeth over it, something primal in him preening when that made Noah moan.

His hands soon found Noah’s belt, tugging it open and moving it so that he could fumble with the button on Noah’s pants. The moment it was undone, he allowed himself a brief second of satisfaction at Noah’s relieved noise, and then they worked together to remove Noah’s pants. He kicked his own off without much care.

“Commando, huh?” He questioned Noah with a snicker.

“Underwear are overrated.” Noah shrugged.

Before much else could be said, Habit wrapped his hand around Noah’s swollen cock (though he usually didn’t bother) and gave a couple slow tugs, drawing out low, throaty moans from the man beneath him. That primal instinct preened once more. Yes. This was good. This was very good.

“So did you remember to find the lube this time?” Noah asked between moans.

“Bought some yesterday, actually.” Habit snickered. “Hold on.”

He pulled away from him (with some reluctance) and dug the lube out of his bedside table, where he’d stashed it between making snacks before their little outing. He handed it off to Noah without a word, and Noah understood immediately. He handed it back after a second, the bottle now significantly warmer.

Teamwork.

“You’re all cleaned out, right?” He asked as he popped the cap on the bottle.

“Of course.” Noah rolled his eyes at him.

“Just checking.”

He squeezed some lube out into his hand, coating his fingers in the lukewarm gel. Without prompting, Noah spread his legs a little wider for him, and he carefully pushed a finger into him. It certainly went much smoother with lube than it did the last few times, and Noah didn’t seem anywhere near as uncomfortable with the situation as he had been the first time.

Maybe because this time he hadn’t cut him open first and wasn’t hard because he’d just cut him open. He was hard _partially_ because of the drugs making him horny and _mostly_ because Noah made him horny. It was probably refreshing for the other to know he didn’t _just_ get off on violence.

He carefully thrust his finger, shoving the thoughts aside as he did so. Noah let out a muffled noise, shifting slightly. Habit let him situate himself, continuing to thrust the finger slow and careful, certainly more gentle than he’d been the first time they’d done this. When Noah settled, Habit placed his free hand firmly on his hip to pin it down. Noah could still move if he wanted, but he’d get the message that Habit would prefer if he stayed still.

Once Noah’s body finally relaxed around his finger, he sped his thrusts ever so slightly, twisting and curling the digit until he brushed the little bundle of nerves he was looking for. Noah’s hips jerked slightly, a moan leaving him. Habit considered sitting here and teasing him for as long as he could, but the way his cock strained at the idea told him it was probably not the best idea tonight. Oh well. He could try some other time.

Assured that he could do so, he added a second finger.

Only once Noah was gasping and groaning and straining slightly against the hand pinning his hip did Habit actually decide to move on. By then he had three fingers in, thrusting at a moderate pace. Noah was loose and pliable around the digits.

He pulled them out slowly, just to tease, and then squirted a bit more lube into his hand. He had to be a little hasty about the application, and not just because he was a little riled up. The impatient and damn near murderous look he was getting from Noah was definitely a motivator, too.

He wasn’t afraid of Noah, but he was very much aware of what he could do, and he didn’t want to touch that particular dumpster fire today.

Hah. Dumpster _fire._

He pushed into him the moment he felt as if he was slick enough to do so without serious discomfort for either of them. He let out a pleased noise that was easily drowned by the relieved groan Noah gave.

“Fuck, yes.” Noah all but purred.

Habit could relate.

He reached up and wrapped a hand haltingly around Noah’s throat as he began to rock his hips slowly. Noah tipped his head back, actively encouraging the touch as he moaned. Habit squeezed just enough to cut off Noah’s air, grunting when it made him tense up around him.

Habit didn’t really focus much on what he was doing after that, just kept enough presence of mind to watch for signs he needed to loosen his grip. Noah could still pass out from lack of oxygen, after all. Especially when Habit was fucking into him hard and fast and only really giving him enough of a break to avoid hurting him.

The idea of _avoiding_ hurting him (and _wanting_ to avoid hurting him) did strange things to Habit - things he didn’t want to concentrate on while he was trying to enjoy himself.

The end came just a little faster than he’d have liked. He felt Noah tense up around him, saw his abdominal muscles pull completely taut, and then Noah was gasping out a curse and arching his back. Habit moaned, low and somewhat weak. Noah came hard between them and Habit thrust maybe four more times before he followed him over the edge.

It only dawned on him after he pulled his brain off cloud nine that, for the first time, they’d fucked and Habit hadn’t gone out of his way to hurt Noah either beforehand or in the process. He’d done what he knew Noah liked and that was about it. He hadn’t cut him open, hadn’t left raw scars with his teeth or nails… He’d just choked him because he knew he liked being choked and hadn’t thought much about his own likes and wants. They hadn’t really seemed like a big deal.

Internally he cursed, because if that wasn’t a sign he was in love he didn’t know what was, but externally he chuckled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the corner of Noah’s mouth. Noah let out a laugh that was more a puff of air than anything before turning his head slightly so that he could give Habit a real kiss. Habit smiled against his lips for a second, then kissed back properly. It was slow and languid, nothing like the kisses they’d given each other in the past. They’d all been chaste pecks or desperate liplocks and this was… Something else.

And Habit knew that the change wasn’t just because of their little agreement.

When he pulled away, he carefully pulled out. He chuckled at the way Noah crinkled his nose at the feeling of the mess that Habit, specifically, had made. He just chuckled more when Noah glanced down at his abdomen and added a frown to the face he was making. Noah scowled at him in reply, clearly not seeing why he was amused.

Habit kissed him again.

Noah looked much more relaxed when he pulled away this time and Habit counted that as a victory.

He climbed off the bed, ignoring the look Noah gave him, and used the doorway teleportation thing they’d figured out not so long ago to move straight from his bedroom to the upstairs bathroom. He quietly wetted a rag with warm water, then popped back through into his room.

Noah, who had sat up with a raised brow, made a noise of realization and laid back, propped up on his elbows. Habit chuckled, trying to ignore the weird warm feeling in his chest that he got from seeing Noah relax when he came back into the room, and made his way back to the bed.

Noah made to take the rag from him, but Habit swatted his hand away and, to Noah’s obvious embarrassment, cleaned him up the best he could.

“You know I can do that myself.”

“I know.” Habit agreed. “But I want to do it for you. Just.” He trailed for a second before forcing himself to continue, “Just let me take care of you.”

Noah gave him an odd look, but blessedly didn’t offer any further argument to Habit wiping his chest and stomach for him. Habit shoved down the embarrassment he felt, because there was nothing to be embarrassed about and it was perfectly fine to want to take care of… Of his boyfriend. Holy shit that felt weird. Actually thinking of Noah as his boyfriend made him feel warm, but also made him feel… Almost sick? Not in a bad way, though. It made his stomach twist and he was pretty sure he finally understood what people meant when they talked about feeling butterflies in their stomach. Fuck, that was mushy and stereotypical of him, wasn’t it?

Fuck it. He could feel whatever he wanted about Noah and if having butterflies when he thought of him as his boyfriend was a thing that happened then he’d let it happen.

When he was done cleaning Noah up to the best of his ability, he just chucked the rag at his hamper and settled down on the bed next to Noah. He waited for Noah to lay down fully before he began working on getting as close to him and as cozy as he could get. Noah moved with him obligingly until they were situated, and once they were he unabashedly buried his face in Habit’s shoulder.

Habit purred and rested his head on top of his, holding him in a loose (but firm) embrace that sated parts of him that he didn’t know existed. He felt so… Oddly complete right now. And he felt so at peace it was damn near unsettling. He always felt some strange, primal _need_ for _something,_ although he wasn’t sure _what,_ and only being in total control and hurting others really made it settle at all, although they also made it grow stronger. But being in control and hurting other people made _him_ stronger too, so he wasn’t surprised.

But that urge wasn’t there right now. The need to seek out control and violence was gone. That had never happened before, even when he was cuddling Noah, and he had to wonder if part of it hadn’t been his own dumb feelings and need for affection. He’d never get what he’d wanted from Lyra, and he knew that, and maybe the unrequited feelings he had for her, the expectations he’d had for their relationship on the off chance they had one, had been feeding that desire to dominate and injure like gasoline on a fire. So, now that he’d accepted that and had a relationship, maybe he’d sated that part of him. Put the cap back on the gas can, so to speak.

He wasn’t sure, it was just a theory.

“You know,” Noah’s voice broke him from his thoughts, “You adjusted your behavior to fit with us being in a relationship awfully quick.”

Habit shrugged the best he could. “It’s not like I have to change that much. I just have a free ticket to forcefully cuddle you whenever I want and randomly make out with you for no reason now.”

“And you couldn’t have done all that before?” Noah raised a brow, and the note of amusement told Habit he was, mostly, joking.

“Well yeah.” Habit replied, kissing his forehead for effect, “Because I do what I want.” Another kiss. “But it would have been awkward as fuck for both of us.”

Noah dissolved into quiet chuckles. Habit smiled and was unable to resist the urge to press as many chaste kisses to Noah’s forehead as he could get away with. Noah allowed his affections without complaint for a while before he moved his face so he could kiss Habit’s jaw and cheek. Habit’s lips were likely going to start hurting from the consistent smile soon, but he didn’t care. He nosed at Noah’s face until he moved it to look up at him and kissed him.

It was another slow, affectionate kiss that left Habit warm and contented.

Noah ended up falling asleep first, after the kiss ended. He laid his head back where it had been and nuzzled into Habit’s shoulder and, after a few moments, passed right out. It was nice to see him sleeping, Habit thought.

He laid his head back atop Noah’s and laid there thinking for another hour or so before sleep took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter summary:** Habit and Noah take care of the issue Habit's drug use left him with. They also agree to give dating a try (finally). Habit acknowledges feelings, if only to himself. Lots of cuddles and Habit reflecting on how much he likes kissing Noah ensue in the aftermath of their "fun".
> 
> \--
> 
> It's worth noting that, as of the last chapter, this story surpassed 100K words. This, in part, is why this chapter was delayed. I did some serious re-evaluating of my abilities after posting the last chapter and honestly I have never been so proud of a fanfiction's length as I am of this one. Thank you all for sticking with it so far, and I hope that this story continues to engage you until the end (whenever that may be)!
> 
> (It's also worth noting that, on the document for this story, I don't keep track of the word count, partially because that's impractical for long stories with a title page and chapter titles, so I never know for sure how long a chapter is until I post it and do the math-)


	33. Little White Lies

Four months sounded a lot longer than it felt.

It had been four months since Alex re-established contact with Jeff (six since he’d run away) and it didn’t feel like it had been anywhere near that long. So far he hadn’t revealed anything substantial to Jeff, but he had managed to convince Jeff of his trustworthiness for the most part regardless. He had Vinny to thank for a lot of that, though.

Most of the convincing had been by proxy, after all, with Vin as the proxy.

Vin was, more or less, indoctrinating Jeff and making him trust a guy that he didn’t realize was his little brother, and entirely at Alex’s request, at that. He made for a very good assistant and Alex could only hope that no one with ill intentions ever got hold of him, because he was _very_ convincing. He had a lot of sway over his friends, because he was the one that was always honest unless absolutely necessary, and they _all_ trusted him. Alex shuddered to think what could happen if Stick-In-The-Mud got him.

All the work Habit and Noah were putting into staying away from him and helping Alex could go down the drain in an instant if Stick-In-The-Mud got control of Vinny. He knew that. Because Noah would never think to be suspicious of Vinny until it was too late and Firebrand had to deal with the situation.

Speaking of the whole Noah/Firebrand conundrum, Alex still wasn’t sure he understood, but he also wasn’t exactly trying to. It was easier not to think about, but he couldn’t help it. Every single time he so much as thought the name Firebrand he started thinking about the nature of the deity. Noah and Firebrand were very much the same person and he knew that, but at the same time they were very different people. Noah was the person he’d known all this time, the person that Jeff and Evan and Vinny had been friends with since about eighth grade after they met him by chance while his family was on a trip to New Jersey and got lost. His parents happened to run into Vin’s parents and ask for directions, and Vin’s parents happened to be chaperoning he and his two best friends.

Evan had struck up a conversation with Noah (who had reportedly looked quite uncomfortable before) and soon enough had him engaged in a full-blown debate with himself, Jeff, and Vinny.

When their parents had finally gotten done talking, Evan managed to coerce Noah’s phone number out of him, readily gave out his own, and they had, apparently, been pretty good friends ever since.

Yeah. Noah was the guy he’d always known. He was the socially awkward, binge-drinking, foul-mouthed mess that Alex hadn’t actually met until his brother brought him over when he was in about seventh grade.

But Firebrand… Firebrand was all that and _more._ Firebrand was, essentially, all that Noah was and ever would be. That was how Noah explained it, at least.

Firebrand was the awkward fool that Alex knew, he was every little tic Noah had, every single little tiny thing about his personality… And he was also all of the pieces of Noah that Alex didn’t know, and likely wouldn’t live long enough to know. Firebrand was Noah’s past, present, and future. He was practically eternal.

And the only real difference that Alex could see between them was that Firebrand tended toward being calculating and logical while Noah more often thought with his heart than his brain. Maybe later on he learned not to do that? Alex wasn’t sure. And also? He didn’t really care. Firebrand could do and learn whatever he wanted, after all, and nothing would come out of sitting around wondering why he did the sorts of things he did.

However, Firebrand being all Noah ever was or ever would be explained a fair few things to Alex that otherwise wouldn’t have made sense. The encounter with Swain and Deadhead mid-December, for example. The panic, the feelings of “oh god, they’re here,” didn’t come until after the fight was already over. The things that were usually a knee-jerk reaction for someone who’d been through something like were significantly delayed… Because Firebrand was no longer a victim. Firebrand, while still Noah, while still the same man who’d been tortured and killed, was over it. Since he was everything Noah would ever be, that also meant that he was - well, Alex didn’t want to say “better,” because “better” implied that being traumatized was some sort of illness, but he couldn’t think of a more fitting word. Recovered, maybe? No, that really wasn’t much better.

Regardless. Firebrand had all the time in the world at his fingertips and it wasn’t in any way surprising that he had, at some point, used some of that time to get over his trauma.

What was surprising was how he’d managed to keep Noah from experiencing the effects until he’d relinquished control, really. But from what little Alex understood it wasn’t so much two separate identities who could give and take control as it was one identity who could add or take away years (even centuries) of his own life in order to become a better version of itself, a version more suited for whatever was going on.

Yeah, it didn’t make any sense to him, either.

But, whatever, right? Firebrand could do what he wanted, and so could Noah.

… Noah was just way less scary and not near as likely to set you on fire on purpose. It was always an accident if Noah set you on fire, but that was usually when he was pissed off, and for obvious reasons Alex avoided him like the plague when he was pissed off. Mostly because Noah tended to catch fire when he was pissed, and he tended to catch the object of his irritation on fire with him. Kind of like he’d done with that eyeless _thing_ the last time it had come to harass them a month or so ago.

It had gotten bold again, gotten into the house… And had promptly been set ablaze and sent packing.

Alex was decidedly more afraid of Noah than he had ever been of that thing, because that thing? It was predictable. He knew what it was going to do. He knew when and where it was most likely to strike. He could handle getting his arms sliced up in his dreams in part because that was kind of the routine for him. Also because he would gladly take lacerations over third degree burns any day.

Noah, though… Noah was a wild card. You could never tell what he was going to do. You could never tell when, exactly, he was going to snap on you. Blessedly he never seemed to snap on Alex or Habit, but Alex had seen enough of his outbursts to know what to expect if he ever did.

Alex shook his head and returned his attention to his phone, having felt it vibrate.

[9:22 AM] _So when do I get a name from you?_

Oh. Jeff.

A: [9:22 AM] _That depends largely on why you want one._ -Crown emoji

J: [9:23 AM] _To have something to call you? I mean I’ve been calling you ‘Crown’ for four months and I could likely continue calling you Crown for the rest of eternity, but if you were to provide a name…._

Oh, he just wanted something better to call him. That made sense. Alex hummed and considered it for a long moment. He’d kind of been doing the crown emoji thing on purpose to throw Jeff off, because admittedly Alex wasn’t known for his use of emojis, but he’d never thought it out far enough to provide him with a name. He didn’t really think he’d be talking to Jeff enough for him to need a name.

… Probably should have been thinking about that now that he _was_ talking to Jeff enough to need a name.

Oh well.

A: [9:24 AM] _You may continue to call me Crown for the time being. I do not know yet if I can trust you with my name - only the information I have for you, when I have it. But that is not a matter of trust. That is a matter of fairness and pity._ -Crown emoji

And it was. It was only fair that Jeff get these little teases of information, and he was really doing this out of pity for him. Regardless, though, that message should buy him at least another couple minutes, if not a few more weeks. It really depended on what Jeff would have to say about it. Alex knew what his brother would do under normal circumstances, of course, but these weren’t normal circumstances and Jeff had been acting noticeably different as of late anyway, quite possibly because these weren’t normal circumstances.

J: [9:25 AM] _What reason do you actually have not to trust me?_

Alex considered that.

A: [9:25 AM] _Really now Jeff, my identity is at stake here._ -Crown emoji

He was lying through his teeth. There was nothing to lose by throwing a fake name at Jeff and hoping it would stick. There was, however, something to lose by not keeping up his mysterious and cryptic mask. He had to be consistent or Jeff might start to think something was up.

A: [9:25 AM] _Should I tell you, and you happen to let it slip in the wrong place, things could get very bad for me very quickly._ -Crown emoji

Again, a lie. But maybe a convincing one.

Okay, what was a good name? What was a good alias? He’d have to think about it very seriously, and pick something that both wouldn’t tip Jeff off as to who he really was and would be easy for him to stick to. Something he could and would respond to and could handle being called for an indefinite amount of time.

Just letting him call him Crown was sounding more and more appealing with every passing moment.

“You look a little stressed.”

The sudden voice made him jump about three feet in the air, an undignified yelp leaving him as he whipped his head toward the source. And there stood Noah, looking half-amused and half-concerned. Alex stared at him for a moment, processing what he’d said with wide eyes. Then, realizing at last that he was in no danger, and that Noah probably hadn’t meant to startle him (and especially not to this extent) he relaxed and gave a rather weak laugh.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah, just a little.”

“Jumpy, too.” Noah finally commented, chuckling at him as he moved to the sofa he and Habit shared, sitting down. “What’s wrong?”

“I need a fake name.” Alex admitted, “Jeff finally asked what my name is.” Then, unable to resist the urge, he said, “I’m surprised you’re out of bed. You usually can’t get enough of sleepy Habit’s snuggles.”

Blessedly, Noah laughed and shook his head. “He’s in the shower right now. There’s no snuggles to be had, unfortunately.” He licked his lips, appearing thoughtful, “Have you thought of just giving him a nickname not far off from whatever he’s already calling you?”

“He’s been calling me Crown because of the crown emoji I throw at the end of my messages.” Alex responded, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

“Try a name that means King or Prince, in that case.” Noah said. “I could probably compile a decent sized list of options real quick.”

“Yes please.” Alex gave him a sheepish smile.

J: [9:30 AM] _I guess you have a point there but the probability of someone knowing you’re who I’m talking about around here is pretty low, don’t you think?_

“Rory means ‘red king’,” Noah offered suddenly.

“Rory?” Alex looked at him, cocking his head to the side. “... Yeah. I like that one.”

“I thought you might.” Noah chuckled. “Need a last name too?”

“Maybe at a later point I will, but Rory should be good. Thanks Noah.” He smiled at him.

Noah smiled back and got settled in there on the couch.

A: [9:31 AM] _If you really find it necessary, I suppose that providing you with a first name won’t ruin me._ -Crown emoji

J: [9:31 AM] _?_

A: [9:31 AM] _The name I can provide you is Rory._ -Crown emoji

That crown emoji was seeing so much use it was now in his autocorrect options after any and every dash he put in a message. _Oof. Not what I wanted to do._ Alex found himself thinking. Oh well, though. A crown emoji being predictable text for him was the least of his worries.

J: [9:32 AM] _I’m almost like 200% certain that’s not your real name, but I’m willing to go with it._

A: [9:32 AM] _Wonderful, because it’s what you’re getting._ -Crown emoji

J: [9:33 AM] _… You get more and more casual every day, but somehow it’s just making you sound like even more of a cryptic fuckhead._

A: [9:34 AM] _¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_

J: [9:36 AM] _I boh love and hate you._

J: [9:36 AM] _*both_

Alex snickered. Might as well frustrate his brother - what kind of little brother would he be if he didn’t? A good one, probably. Or at least a halfway decent one. He’d be an _awesome_ brother if he hadn’t run away and had trusted his brother with his problems early enough that he wouldn’t have felt like he needed to run away and do all of this pretty much on his own. He’d be a downright _amazing_ brother if he hadn’t assumed that Jeff would assume he was suicidal if he showed him the scratches, like some sort of asshole.

He shook his head, forcing down the rising bad mood and trying to focus on the good mood that had preceded it.

God. He was really bad at holding onto moods, wasn’t he? Oh well. Fuck it. He’d just roll with the mood swings. If Habit could do it, so could he.

Speaking of Habit, the older male chose that moment exactly to waltz down the stairs in nothing but his boxers. Alex wanted very much to disappear, he had to admit. He didn’t mind seeing Habit half-naked, of course, because they were both dudes and he wasn’t seeing anything he hadn’t seen before, but, well… He had to admit all the hickeys and bitemarks littering Habit’s abdomen made him just the least bit uncomfortable.

It wasn’t that he had a problem with Habit and Noah’s relationship, or that he thought them having sex was gross, but… Actually, yeah, he did, but he thought sex was gross in general. It wasn’t just them and it definitely wasn’t because they were gay. In fact it being two guys made him _less_ uncomfortable than a guy and a girl.

But yeah, in general, sex was gross and seeing evidence of it made him mega uncomfy, so he kinda wanted to disappear. Just to escape.

He couldn’t help it.

“Mornin’ kiddo.” Habit called to him.

“Morning,” He replied rather awkwardly. To avoid further embarrassment he returned his attention to his phone.

A: [9:38 AM] _It’s like that sometimes._ -Crown emoji

There really wasn’t much else for him to say. He swallowed and scrolled through his apps. He just had to hold out until Habit put on some clothes. He could do that.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of those strangely short chapters that I just couldn't convince to make itself longer.  
> Whoops.


	34. An Invitation

Alex was uncomfortable.

Noah could tell that just by looking at him.

He could tell without even having to enter his mind in the slightest - it was obvious in the way that he was shifting slightly, staring at his phone rather than looking up at either of them. And Noah knew it was likely because of Habit’s current stage of undress.

Poor guy.

Noah knew from the little time he’d spent in his head that sex made him uncomfortable in general, and that he usually didn’t mind Habit being half naked because, really, it wasn’t anything new or surprising. But he knew that evidence of “shenanigans” made Alex uncomfortable, and currently Habit’s abdomen and neck were covered in bruises, some in the shape of Noah’s teeth.

Noah wished he could make this easier on Alex, because he knew that Alex didn’t mind what they did together. He only minded that it happened at all, ever, between anyone, of any gender. It made him uncomfortable and that was perfectly fine. But, again, Noah wished he could help.

You know, _without_ having to do major, extremely invasive mental tweaking to the poor kid.

He got up, rather than commenting on it, and followed his boyfriend (it still felt just a little weird to think of Habit that way) into the kitchen. Habit didn’t comment on him following, just worked on finding something to eat.

“So, not feeling clothes today?” Noah asked after a moment.

“Not particularly.” Habit chuckled. “Not yet at least. Plus the majority of my shirts are in the dryer right now.”

Noah nodded his understanding. “Might wanna get one on as soon as you can. I think the hickeys are making the kiddo uncomfortable.”

“Shit.” Habit said under his breath, “Forgot anything sex-related made him feel weird.”

“It’s cool, I’m sure he didn’t expect you to remember.” Noah placated him.

“Well yeah, but…” Habit trailed, stopping what he was doing, “I mean. I feel kinda shitty for it. I think I’ve caught emotions. How do I uninstall?”

“You can’t, emotions is a program that never goes away once you get it.” Noah snorted. “Think the dryer’s done? I could get you a shirt.”

“Should be, and if it aint it will be soon.” Habit replied, and he didn’t say thank you out loud but Noah could see it in his eyes and that was good enough for him.

He exited the room, aware Habit would probably stay there until he was given a shirt now that he had been reminded of Alex’s aversion to anything sex-related. Out of consideration for Habit’s love of tanktops in the summer and Alex’s issues, Noah vowed to start leaving his marks in places more easily covered by tanktops.

The knowledge that Habit would probably follow his lead made him feel almost giddy.

He had it bad, he had to admit. He’d had it bad since they’d gotten together, maybe even before that. Although he had to admit that for a while there his feelings for Habit had been… Less than charitable. He guessed that was probably just Firebrand being salty about Habit not feeling the same for him.

Pleasant surprise to them when they found out otherwise.

And, sure, Noah was aware that Habit probably didn’t _actually_ feel the same, and was just giving this a shot for the sake of giving it a shot, but at the very least he _acted_ like he cared, and that was good enough for Noah because that was more than he was really expecting to get.

He didn’t want to insinuate that Habit would ever get into a relationship with someone just to abuse them, or that he’d ever (knowingly) abuse a romantic partner, because against all odds that wasn’t the kind of person Habit was, but he hadn’t expected Habit, even in the event that they got together, to actually be genuinely affectionate with him. He hadn’t actually expected anything to change between them.

He wasn’t complaining that it had, though. Not at all. He was enjoying it thoroughly, in fact.

He came to a stop in front of the dryer and eyed the dial. It appeared to be nearing the end of the cycle… Close enough that it wouldn’t kill Habit to wear a shirt taken out of the load. He popped the door open and waited for the cylinder to come to a complete stop before he dug through the presumably toasty warm jumble of fabric. And he said ‘presumably’ because unless it was ten degrees or more higher than his body temperature, he wouldn’t be able to tell if something was warm or hot… Which was something of a problem, considering he knew for a fact that his body temperature tended to hold at a steady 104°F and that meant anything he considered warm, others would typically consider hot.

Habit couldn’t even shower with him the vast majority of the time, because what he considered a good temperature was too cold for Noah, and what Noah considered a good temperature was too hot for him.

That was fine, though. They already lived together, so it wasn’t like they absolutely had to do everything together. Besides, showering together was overrated and definitely for honeymoon phase straight couples in bad romcoms.

That was the way that Noah saw it, at least.

He shook the thoughts away and removed a shirt from the dryer. Brief inspection showed it was (thankfully) one of Habit’s and not Noah’s, so he knocked the dryer door closed once more and jammed the start button down so that the load could finish.

That done he made his way back to the kitchen and, after making sure Habit wasn’t doing anything he could potentially fuck up, tossed the shirt at him and hit him squarely in the face with it. Habit made a startled noise. Noah just laughed as he approached.

“I was expecting you to at least try to catch it.” He informed him.

“I wasn’t expecting you to throw it at my face.” Habit replied dryly as he straightened the shirt out, then pulled it over his head, “Though I probably should have been.”

“You really should have.” Noah agreed with a laugh.

Habit’s vaguely annoyed expression melted into one of amused fondness. Noah’s heart thudded solidly in his chest at the sight and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling at his boyfriend. Faces like that were why he could convince himself that maybe Habit _did_ feel the same as he did. The way Habit’s eyes lost their usual sharp quality, becoming soft and slightly crinkled at the edges, royal purple irises almost melting into the black of his pupils… The way his lips turned up more on one side than the other. The way he looked directly at Noah and not at anything else so Noah _knew_ that the expression was for him and him alone… All of it told him that the possibility of Habit loving him was higher than he’d initially expected.

“It’s nice seeing you happy,” Habit told him in a tone that matched the look on his face.

Noah shoved down his embarrassment and said, “You know it’s because of you, right?”

Habit blinked at him for a second, looking more than just a little bit surprised by the admission, and then grinned. “I didn’t - but that’s good. Means we’re on a level playing field.”

It took Noah a moment to realize that that was Habit admitting that he made him happy, too. And when he realized it, his first instinct was to cross the few feet between them and hug him tightly. Habit hugged back immediately, nosing affectionately at the side of his neck. Noah could feel him smiling.

_God,_ this was nice.

Noah very much loved being able to be affectionate and have it returned. It was a nice change from suppressing it each time he got the urge to cuddle Habit. And it was an even nicer change from being angry at Habit over absolutely nothing except the assumption that he didn’t feel anything for him.

He contentedly breathed in Habit’s scent (though as inconspicuously as he could, because he didn’t want it being a known fact that he sniffed his boyfriend), nuzzled at his hair for a second, and then carefully pulled away. Habit went along easily, and even easier when he took his hand and tugged him back toward the living room.

Alex appeared to be in a better mood already, and he relaxed significantly upon seeing that Habit was now, at the very least, wearing a t-shirt with his boxers. A few hickeys were still visible on Habit’s neck, of course, but those made him feel way less weird, because neck hickeys? Those could be the product of a regular old makeout session. You didn’t have to fuck to leave hickeys, for lack of better phrasing.

“So, kiddo,” Habit said as he flopped down on the couch, next to Noah to no one’s surprise, “Anything new happening?”

“I’m lying to Jeff on a whole new level.” Alex replied with a weak grin and a laugh.

When he laughed, Noah noticed something. It was just a quick flash - easily a trick of the light. So he started watching Alex much more closely, hoping his sudden fixation would go unnoticed.

Habit and Alex started up an easy conversation, and the next time Alex spoke… Yep, there it was. He had been right.

Alex had finally grown a set of fangs.

It had certainly taken him long enough, Noah thought, because while he didn’t exactly eat _tons_ of the meat, he ate it here and there and one time had been enough to give Noah and Habit fangs, so him only developing them five months down the road was… Odd, but not impossible. There was a chance that whatever thing that was giving _them_ their fangs and weird eyes just wasn’t affecting Alex as strongly. There was a chance he had some kind of resistance to it, or that they were just overly susceptible to it - Habit especially. Hell, it could even be both.

“Uh, Noah?” Alex suddenly asked.

Or maybe it wasn’t sudden. Noah was distracted as hell. “Yeah?”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“... You have fangs.” Noah replied in a manner that would likely come across as unhelpful. Whoops. “You didn’t before. I guess I spaced out wondering why it took so long.”

Alex’s eyebrows scrunched together and, without further ado, he opened his mouth slightly and prodded at his right K9 with the pad of his thumb. It came away bloody despite the fang not looking particularly sharp, and Alex paled slightly. “... Wasn’t expecting that.” He admitted, “Have my eyes changed at all?”

Noah unwillingly pried himself away from Habit so he could get a closer look. Sure, he could have just let Firebrand and his enhanced senses look but… Nah. Upon his closer inspection from about a foot in front of Alex, he could just barely see that the area directly surrounding Alex’s pupils had turned ice blue, while the rest of his irises had remained their original blue-grey hue - certainly more grey than blue.

“Starting to turn blue. Like… Evan blue.” He told him, backing off to sit back down.

Alex made a noise in the back of his throat and Noah paused, tilting his head.

“... Your eyes don’t look any different.” He noted. “They still look the same as they always did.”

Noah laughed and leaned in again, allowing his control over the color of his eyes to slip. He was unsure if they’d changed again from the last time he’d allowed them to be whatever color the meat had made them, but it didn’t really matter. No matter whether they had or not, Alex gasped and unconsciously leaned forward a bit.

“Wow…” He uttered, “How do you...?”

“It’s easier than you probably think,” Noah said, choosing not to change them back as he straightened once more and finally made it back to the couch to sit down. “I’ll teach you if it becomes noticeable enough that your eyes have changed.”

“Kay, thanks.” Alex smiled.

“No problem, kiddo.”

They turned on the TV, turned on Netflix, and Noah relaxed as Habit snuggled into his side. Noah left the show-picking up to Alex and Habit, of course, and eventually they settled on Forensic Files because Alex, apparently, had a special interest in forensics and they really didn’t mind starting from the first episode since they never paid attention to it anyway.

Alex watched with rapt attention. Habit focused more on his phone as he let his head rest on Noah’s chest. And Noah, for his part, just enjoyed the peace. Things really couldn’t be much better, and he had some small amount of faith that they wouldn’t get much worse.

* * *

Well, to his credit, Noah had been right about one thing - things couldn’t be better.

But there was, however, undoubtedly room for them to get worse… And get worse they did.

It started with the sudden unsettled feeling that Noah couldn’t identify the source of. His stomach rolled and in spite of there being no immediately discernible threat he couldn’t shake the idea that something was about to go horribly wrong. He hated that feeling. Firebrand hated it even more.

The real, exact moment that things started going downhill was the moment Noah entered the kitchen and found Kevin leaning against the counter. Or… No. That wasn’t Kevin. That was the Observer.

He showed no signs of their last encounter on New Year’s Eve, though Noah was in no way surprised by this. With his own accelerated healing it was reasonable to assume that the Observer (and the others) likely had something similar. What did surprise (and confuse) him was that Observer made no immediate move to come at him. He seemed ill at ease, shifting against the counter, and though Noah couldn’t see his eyes behind the white out effect of his glasses he could _feel_ the way they were flickering around behind them.

And when Observer didn’t immediately focus on him when he carefully stepped further into the room, it occured to Noah for the first time that Observer’s inability to see into the house may have been a little more literal than he had first thought. It would be so easy to just…

Firebrand shook the thought away. Violence wasn’t necessary - not yet, anyway. Observer was, as he well knew, the least violent of the bunch. He could be talked to, and if cool-tempered persuasion didn’t work… Well, Firebrand knew for a fact that hot-tempered persuasion undoubtedly would. If Observer wasn’t afraid of fire yet… He would be.

He put some small amount of effort into stopping time around them… And then he got started.

“I don’t suppose asking what the fuck you’re doing in my house will do me much good, will it?”

Observer noticeably jumped, head snapping in his direction. “I was wondering when you would notice my presence.” He said, all cool and calm, as if Firebrand hadn’t just temporarily scared him shitless.

Firebrand, uncharacteristically, found himself hit with a severe urge to torment the god before him. So he did. He used the tiniest bits of his power to project his voice to another part of the room when he spoke again, “Lucky it was me who noticed you, not Habit.”

“And why is that?” Observer, predictably, followed the movement of his voice.

Firebrand hadn’t so much as taken a step out of his spot. Observer really _was_ blind, then. Oh, this could be fun. “Well, if you scared my boyfriend I might have to disembowel you.” Firebrand explained.

“Boyfriend?” Observer asked, nose and brows crinkling, “You don’t mean to tell me you’re dating that violence obsessed emo, do you?”

“Very mature, Observer.” Firebrand replied dryly, rolling his eyes. “But yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Who else would I date? Alex?”

Observer only looked more put out. Firebrand wanted very much to get right up in his personal space and, maybe, somehow pay him back for the beatings he’d received all those months ago. But he didn’t do it. He kept his distance, stayed on the other side of the room, and made sure his voice sounded like it was slowly pacing back and forth.

“Listen, I don’t care what your issue with that is. Honestly could not care less if I tried.” He watched closely as Observer’s head followed the perceived movements of his voice. “Just tell me what you’re doing here.”

“The Administrator would like very much to speak with you.” Observer was all business once more, calm and collected.

“And he sent you to collect me?” Firebrand gathered, eyebrow raised although he knew Observer couldn’t see it. Facial cues were a big thing for him.

“More or less. He sent me to cordially request that you come to meet with us at the mansion.” Observer explained, “Failing that, he plans to send Swain and Deadhead to do the actual ‘collecting’.”

Firebrand felt his lip curl slightly in distaste, not at the idea of Swain and Deadhead coming to try and force him back to the mansion, but rather at the idea of having to return to the mansion and meet the Administrator face to face. Really, he would prefer not to. He knew very well that the Administrator could force him to submit to his control without much effort if only he could reach him. Here in _this_ mansion, he was safe. In the _other_ mansion he was a sitting duck.

Agreeing would only lead to bad things, of that he was certain. Disagreeing would bring Swain and Deadhead this way, and perhaps others after them. Fighting wasn’t something he particularly _wanted_ to do, but if he had to…

He shook his head. “When would this meeting be taking place? And what would the purpose be? You understand I’m not going to agree to something like this blindly.”

“Of course not.” Observer clearly rolled his eyes - Firebrand could feel it. “Why would you ever make anything simple?” He sighed, “Two weeks from now. It is not only you we have to gather. The rest of the Collective will be in attendance as well.”

That there were more people to the Collective was knowledge Firebrand rarely acknowledged, in part because he did not have information on who the other members were. That was one of the things he just didn’t automatically know the moment he put thought into it. It wasn’t exactly pertinent information and even if it was the Administrator could likely block it from him.

Still. He had two weeks to mull it over, and two weeks to figure out a way to keep the Administrator from controlling him if he chose to attend.

“Ask me again closer to the date.” Firebrand said, making sure to sound somewhat exasperated, “I may change my mind between then and now. Right now it’s a ‘no, absolutely not’.”

Observer’s expression crinkled once more, but he nodded regardless. “Very well. The chance of you later saying yes should do for the time being.”

“Great. Now get out of my house.”

Firebrand _felt_ him roll his eyes again, and then, just like that, the Observer was gone.

Noah took a deep breath, hit the metaphorical play button on the world around him, and tried to recall what he’d come in here for to begin with. Oh yeah. Drink. He grabbed a can from the fridge without looking, wrinkling his nose slightly when he realized he’d grabbed a beer. Oh well - might as well drink it.

He downed the can, tossed it in the trash, and made sure he grabbed a soda this time.

Taking another deep breath, he opened the can and left the kitchen, taking a sip as he went. Habit had, evidently, gotten up to do something right before he entered - Noah could just barely see him disappearing up the stairs. That was fine. Noah needed to talk to Alex before he could settle back down with Habit again.

As if Alex could sense this, he paused Netflix and met his eyes.

“I need you to look into something for me, kiddo.” Noah said carefully, “And don’t feel bad if you can’t find anything on it.”

“Sure thing. What am I looking for?” Alex gave him a smile, and Noah knew he was agreeing out of his usual desire to pay back his perceived debts. If nothing else he was agreeing because he felt he owed Noah for the quick name suggestion this morning.

“... Protection symbols. Preferably things that can be used to keep you from being controlled.” Noah felt… Somewhat awkward, making such a request, but Alex seemed for the most part unperturbed.

“Gotcha. I’ll see what I can find for ya.” Another smile, and then Alex was flicking over to a different show on Netflix, pressing play, and all but burying his nose right into his phone, fingers flickering over the keys.

“Thanks,” Noah said, but if Alex heard him he didn’t acknowledge him.

So when Habit came back downstairs from whatever he was doing, it was to the scene of Noah watching whatever show Alex had put on for background noise with a vague interest, and Alex completely absorbed in something on his phone, expression one of pure concentration. He chose, blessedly, not to question it, and instead settled in next to Noah on the couch and tuned into whatever show this was. It looked decent.

Noah, for his part, just tried to ignore the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to do this much longer. On the off chance that Alex found a rune or symbol or whatever that actually worked, it was hard telling if it would be strong enough to repel the Administrator’s powers. It didn’t seem likely. After all, the Administrator had the entire Collective under his control - had a group of _gods_ under his control. Surely some puny little rune wasn’t enough to stop him?

… But he didn’t want to focus o that right now. He just wanted to enjoy the way it felt to cuddle up to his boyfriend and watch Netflix. He just wanted to, if nothing else, spend some time with the two people he cared about most before he focused on that. Regardless, right now was cuddle time, not existential crisis time. He needed to focus on the bad like he needed a bullet to the brain, after all.

Habit’s hand found its way into Noah’s hair, unlike the usual, and when his fingers began to gently card through the strands, Noah sighed and let himself relax. He didn’t try to stop it when his body demanded that he lay his head against Habit’s and purr. Habit purred in return, clearly pleased with the reaction.

Okay. Things were okay right now. And goddammit Noah was going to enjoy it while it lasted.


	35. Severance

Alex worked quickly, Noah would give him that. Much quicker than he’d been expecting, at least. It had only been about a day, and yet he was already waiting patiently to tell Noah about something he’d found.

Noah had, understandably, insisted that he wait until he’d woken up a little.

Alex agreed easily and simply sipped at his drink, sitting quietly at the island with his laptop in front of him. He was, evidently, in no huge rush. It was somewhat relaxing to Noah, admittedly. Seeing Alex taking this slowly despite how quickly he’d found something quelled a little of the panic that Noah still felt over the very idea of having to meet face to face with the Administrator and the remaining members of the Collective. Even if he said no and defeated Swain and Deadhead, other members who he wasn’t sure of how to defeat may follow them. He did not want that. Swain and Deadhead he knew he could fight - he’d done it pretty amazingly in the past - but any others he couldn’t be entirely sure about.

After fifteen or so minutes of just watching Alex quietly and drinking coffee, blinking the sleep from his eyes, he took a breath and said, “Okay, I’m awake now.”

“Awesome.” Came Alex’s immediate reply. He shifted on his stool and turned his laptop toward Noah a bit. “Okay, so, I ran a couple pretty standard searches for the things you requested. Weren’t a whole lot of legitimate things - and don’t ask how I could tell they were fake. Anyway, after some deeper digging I came across  _ this,” _ He turned the screen further, and featured prominently on screen was a black symbol on a white background. It didn’t look like anything special, to Noah. “I didn’t think much of it at first, either, but at the very least it was one of the few legitimate ones. Stronger than the others, too. All the information I’ve got on it right now is that it’s called the ‘Rune of Severance’ and that it can do… Pretty much whatever you intend it to do.”

Noah blinked. That was one hell of a blurb to take in, but once he had thoroughly processed it he slowly nodded. “Okay. So what made you point this one in particular out?”

“Well, like I said before - it’s one of the legit ones and it’s more powerful than the others.” Alex explained, “Based on the way that you asked me about it - and by that I mean your tone and expressions at the time - I assumed you probably needed a fairly strong one and that you probably needed it fairly quickly.”

Noah blinked once more. Alex was being… Astonishingly professional about this. He was really taking the request completely seriously.  _ God, _ that was a relief. Alex hadn’t thought he was joking. He hadn’t assumed Noah was screwing around. He’d read the situation to the best of his ability, made the judgement that Noah was serious, and he was being serious about it in reply, and if that wasn’t the mark of someone who was going to turn out to be a great man he wasn’t sure what was.

“You assumed correctly.” Noah said, instead of… Most of that. “I’m glad to see you’re taking it seriously, though, because I thought you may have thought I was joking.”

“Had I not been paying close attention, I probably would have.” Alex admitted, “But when people are asking favors of me I tend to focus maybe a little too hard on how they ask and what they ask for.”

“And why is that?” Even as he asked, Alex was turning his laptop back toward himself and clicking into a different tab.

“Easier to discern a request from a demand and something urgent from something trivial that way.” Alex shrugged, glancing up at him. “I’ve always done it, but here lately it’s been even more intense. I just haven’t been able to ignore the need to have everything in some kind of order. Even just the things I do every day. Gotta have some kind of rhyme or reason to what I’m doing or it feels wrong.”

“Might be the meat.” Noah suggested, “I know it screwed with the way Habit and I did things at first until we learned how to control it better.”

Alex chewed the inside of his cheek as he stared at his screen, slowly nodding. “You may be right. I’ll have to get around to doing that eventually…” A shrug, “But for now it’s doing more good than harm, so I’m not too incredibly worried about it.” He paused in whatever he was reading and laughed, “I mean… I haven’t been able to even come downstairs without brushing my teeth and hair in a month and I actually remember to eat every day. I’d say that’s more a benefit than anything else.”

“So self care has taken a priority, then?” Noah asked, eyebrows lifting.

“Oh yeah. Top priority unless it would interfere with another high priority item on my list.” Alex began typing something, paused, backspaced a considerable amount, and started typing again. “It’s a little annoying sometimes, but now that I’m getting accustomed to the schedule I’ve set up it’s not so bad.” He hit enter. “Admittedly, I didn’t sleep last night looking for this.”

“Alex-” Noah frowned.

“It wasn’t intentional.” Alex glanced at him, then returned to scanning whatever was on the screen before him, “I just… When I went upstairs to sleep, I got on my laptop to check facebook, since it’s the only way I can without setting off alarm bells, and then I thought, ‘hey, searching for a protection symbol for Noah would be way easier on here’. And so I ran a quick search just to confirm the idea and uh… Next thing I knew the sun was in the sky.”

“Are you tired?”

“Not really. I mean I got a little sleepy while waiting to show you and while we were talking about it, but now that I’m focused on it again…” He trailed, but Noah more or less got the message.

He also got that, based on Alex’s expression of concentration, he likely wouldn’t be speaking much more for a while. He sighed. “You just be careful and don’t make yourself sick, okay?”

He was not expecting the noncommittal hum Alex gave in response, but he took it as the answer it was. Probably something like, “No promises.”

It was only after he’d moved over to the coffee pot for more coffee that he realized he had not actually asked Alex to look into the symbol further. He’d entertained the thought for a second, but never expressed it out loud. And yet… He leaned a bit, angling so he could see the screen, and indeed that was exactly what Alex was doing. He wondered if maybe he  _ had _ said something about it without realizing, but when he played the conversation back there was nowhere for him to have slipped it in and no response from Alex about it.

That was, if nothing else, vaguely disconcerting.

Against his better judgement, he carefully entered Alex’s mind. He did not attempt to alert Alex gently of his presence this time. He allowed himself to stay hidden and examined the boy’s most recent thoughts.

There was… Something different about Alex’s thinking patterns this time. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but he could clearly see something was off. Comparing more recent thinking patterns to older ones made it even more obvious. But then, suddenly, it hit him. The reason they seemed ‘off’ and ‘wrong’ was because Alex was known to be an emotional thinker. He thought about things as they came to him and always in a generally emotionally charged manner. Even his judgements on facial expression and the urgency of something were emotionally charged in some way.

But somewhere along the line that had changed, if only slightly. While Alex still undoubtedly thought with his heart a lot of the time, there was a more analytical air to it.  The emotions were still there, but they were playing second fiddle to a more fact-based analysis.

This knowledge unsettled Noah, but he pushed past it and tried to identify where Alex had gathered that he wanted more information on the ‘Rune of Severance’.

_ Open posture. Interested head tilt. Mildly curious expression. _ Seeing himself through Alex’s eyes was… Odd.  _ Listening intently to what little information given. Most probable conclusion: more information needed on the Rune of Severance. Top priority updated. _

Oh. So he had just… Assumed again. And he was astonishingly accurate with it. There were a great deal of things that could have been discerned from the cues he’d taken into account to lead him to that conclusion, and most were far more obvious. That he was interested in what Alex found and wanted other runes and sigils was one of them. That he was interested but didn’t really want any more information was another. So how was it that Alex had picked one of  _ many _ possible interpretations seemingly at random and gotten it exactly right on the first try?

Noah wasn’t sure, but he was admittedly a little afraid of the boy’s deductive powers.

He withdrew quietly and saw Alex give him a sidelong glance before returning to what he’d been doing. Had Alex known he was there the whole time? The thought that he had didn’t seem unlikely considering recent changes. He’d have to be much more careful if he actually wanted to snoop without Alex noticing, then. More careful than he had to be with regular people, at least.

And, now that he was thinking about it, the way he felt about Alex’s sudden deductive powers and ability to know that Noah had been in his head without Noah alerting him directly was probably very similar to the way Alex and Habit felt about… Well, all of his powers, to be honest. Unnerved and unsure of how to proceed.

He resolved to try and make the existence of his own powers a little less terrifying for those around him, if he could do that. He was sure he could manage. He was a god, after all.

That decided, he  _ then _ decided he’d best leave Alex to his work for the time being and quietly made his way to the living room.

The moment he was gone, Alex let some of the tension drain from his body, shoulders going lax. Now that he could concentrate… He focused in on the page in front of him, chewing on his bottom lip absently. Unbeknownst to him, the bright blue that had previously only encompassed a small area of his eyes around the pupil had consumed his entire iris. It almost seemed to glow.

But of course he didn’t notice, already too absorbed in his research.

He did, however, notice the ease with which he was now finding the information he was searching for. The same thing had happened the night before.

Filled with a sudden burst of energy, he delved into the search results vigorously. His eyes caught on key information here and there and filed it away for later, and general information was stored away in much the same manner. Before he knew it he had gone through six pages of search results and had a considerable amount of information to give Noah. He thought about just giving up there and giving him what he had, but…

There were still six more pages, and it hadn’t even been two hours yet since Noah left him in here.

… Surely he could stand to go through the other six pages?

He decided to do it.

As an afterthought he docked the research window on the left side of the screen, then opened a Word document on the right side. He spent about half an hour typing down the information he’d gathered, then delved back into the research to find more. It felt so weird to suddenly be so efficient with research when in school he’d struggled to find a single source for anything, but it also felt… Good? Yeah. Good.

He’d also undoubtedly noticed a difference in the way he was thinking about things, and that he was suddenly worlds better at reading body language and other nonverbals, but all things considered he wasn’t all that surprised. Noah and Habit both noticed that they’d started thinking and reacting to things differently after the meat started to affect them physically. It wasn’t too farfetched to assume the same was happening to him, was it? And it wasn’t like it was a  _ bad _ thing. Being good at researching and interpreting nonverbal communication and thinking about things in a more organized manner were all, objectively, good things. As long as he didn’t get so logical he started disregarding emotions and personal safety, he was fine with this change.

Despite the distraction of thinking about it, he managed to get through the last six pages of results with several more pieces of information stored away in his brain. He jotted them down on the Word document.

Okay. He read the information over again, carefully getting rid of anything he’d accidentally included more than once. There wasn’t exactly an excess of information, admittedly - several accounts of what the rune could be used to do, primarily, along with one or two guides on how best to utilize it. There was one specific guide on using it when someone else drew it, and one on long-term usage. He’d jotted down the majority of the information from those, because chances were that Noah wanted something at least semi-permanent.

A glance at his computer clock showed he’d been hard at work for about five hours now. His stomach grumbled. He winced and pulled back from the computer rather forcibly, straightening out his back and cringing at the way it tensed and cracked as he did so.

After slipping carefully from his stool, he set about finding something to eat and drink. It wasn’t until he found himself back at the island and his computer that he realized he’d grabbed a soda and a piece of jerky that he happened to know was human meat. He winced at the knowledge but… Well. He already had it, so he might as well eat it, right?

Right.

He took a bite, wincing again, and surveyed his Word document once more. No more duplicated information. Good. Now to just clean it up so it looked nice and made sense to people other than himself.

He choked down the rest of the piece of jerky and set about filling out the shorthanded sentences.

For no reason other than that it would make it look better, he added bullet points.

Okay. This should be good enough, right? This was plenty of information. Yeah. Time to give it to Noah…

He slid off the barstool once more and grabbed his laptop, padding quietly into the living room.

Currently, Habit and Noah were cuddling on the couch, watching what appeared to be a horror movie. Alex paused where he was in the doorway, head tilting as he watched the screen. As he expected, within three minutes there was a rather violent scene that, normally, would have made his stomach do backflips. But this time it didn’t. He just cocked his head further to the side, watching as the man on screen slowly lifted a razor with shaky fingers and…

Oh. Ew.

Made a slit across his eyeball.

Still, Alex’s stomach didn’t roll as it normally would have. Not at all. He just kept watching. The razor was dropped hastily and the man at what appeared to be the head of the table made some jovial comment or another. Alex had a thought about what a dick this guy was, but that was about as far as it got. Evidently Habit had chosen that exact moment to look up, and the movie paused quite suddenly.

Alex’s eyes tore away from the screen and met Habit’s slightly concerned gaze. Habit, of course, knew he had a rather weak stomach at times, especially when it came to movies, so of course he was concerned. Scared his choice of movie had somehow bothered Alex, most likely.

Instead of commenting on any of that, Alex chose the more casual, “What’re you guys watching?”

Habit seemed marginally taken aback by the question, casting a glance at the screen before returning his gaze to Alex. “... It’s called Would You Rather.”

“Oh, cool.” Alex examined the progress bar at the bottom of the screen. Not too much longer. “I was gonna show Noah something, but I can wait until your movie’s done.”

At Noah’s raised brow he gave a slight smile, then returned to looking at Habit.

“I mean… I could keep it paused,” Habit offered.

“Nah, go ahead and finish watching.”Alex waved his hand dismissively, “I’ll be in the kitchen.” He said, in order to keep up appearances.

Normally he wouldn’t even want to be anywhere near a horror movie, so he’d excuse himself to a different room. Even though it didn’t bother him enough for that today, he figured it’d be weird for Habit if Alex just suddenly got completely over his aversion to gore. Not that he thought this temporary lapse in disgust was going to last, of course. The likelihood was actually quite low.

“Okay.” Habit hesitated slightly, but turned back toward the TV nonetheless, unpausing the movie before Alex even exited the room.

Alex didn’t mind. He stuck around for a second, actually, before Noah glancing at him sent him retreating into the kitchen at last.

He’d never admit to it, but he actually watched the rest of the movie from just inside the kitchen doorway. It left him sorely wishing for some kind of context, so against his better judgement he resolved to watch it for himself at a later point.

The moment the credits began to roll, he scurried back to the bar and hopped back onto his stool, doing his very best to look as if he’d been there the whole time, eyes focused in on his Word document to pick apart any remaining issues with it. He wasn’t finding any, but whatever. Best to look busy if at all possible.

“So you got the info already?” Noah asked, startling him somewhat.

“Mhm.” He hummed in reply, trying to look like Noah hadn’t made him jump a foot in the air. “There wasn’t a whole lot to be found - 12 pages of results on Google, and a good number of the results weren’t anything helpful. But I did manage to glean a good deal out of the good sources.” He scooted his laptop toward Noah, “Here.”

Noah examined the document for a long moment, eyes roving over the text with clear interest. Alex noticed that his eyes caught on the sections concerning long term use and use when someone else drew it. He also noticed that he was staring and forced himself to look away.

“So…” Noah began carefully after a bit, straightening up from where he’d been hunched over to read the screen. “Theoretically, I could get a tattoo of this thing and it would still do its job?”

“Theoretically,” Alex agreed, tilting his head somewhat, “Out of curiosity, though, why did you want me looking into this stuff at all in the first place?”

Noah’s eyes were sharp, more gold than brown and shocking cold for such a warm color, when they met Alex’s. “I’m… Somewhat required to attend a meeting with the rest of the Collective.” He admitted in a low and dangerously icy tone, “I don’t want to take any chances I don’t have to.”

Alex shrank back a little but nodded nonetheless, “You wanted something to keep the Administrator out of your head.” He guessed.

The name felt foreign on his tongue. He didn’t enjoy it. He also didn’t enjoy the way that Noah’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes.” Noah hissed, and then very suddenly jerked himself back, eyes blinking rapidly and flickering back to a deep brown. “Shit. Sorry.  _ Sorry, _ I don’t know what got into me there - shit. You alright?”

“I’m no more terrified of you than I normally am, so I’d say so.” Alex replied in a drier tone than was probably healthy given the situation, even as he forced himself to stop curling in on himself defensively. “Your temper could use some serious work.” He noted with a hint of annoyed snark, turning his gaze to his computer, feeling that uncomfortable tenseness sinking back into his very soul. His shoulders were more or less locked into an admittedly rather painful position, pulled up slightly and ready to hunch up all the way to protect his neck if necessary. “Just sayin’.” He added under his breath as an afterthought.

Noah visibly flinched at both the initial response and the jab at his anger management skills, then sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I scare you. I don’t mean to.”

“I know you don’t.” Alex said in a huff that was more defeated agreement than petulance, “And I don’t mean to be afraid of everything you do. But here we are.”

“It’s the fire, isn’t it?”

“It’s more the fact that I’ve watched you set a man on fire in our living room like it was nothing. Also my dream demon thing. And that your temper could  _ really _ use some work. Like seriously. You get mad at the drop of a hat and I can’t ever predict when it’s going to happen and that scares me. It’s the same reason I’m at least mildly terrified of Habit.”

Noah sighed.

So did Alex.

“... How…” Noah trailed. It had already been several minutes since either of them made any noise. He took a breath and tried again, “How well do you think a tattoo of this… Rune of Severance… Would work against the Administrator?”

“Hard to say.” Alex replied with a half-hearted shrug. “Intention has a large impact on how strong it is, so I guess it’s probably equally as likely that it’ll be useless as it’s likely that it’ll completely divert the Administrator’s influence depending on how strong your intentions are. Additionally, getting a tattoo of it brings in the aspect of using it when someone else drew it, which just throws in a whole new level of difficulty to the whole thing.” Another shrug. Alex noticed he hadn’t so much as looked away from his keyboard since they stopped speaking earlier.

Whoops?

He fiddled with the hems of his sleeves while he waited for Noah to reply.

“I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself.” Noah sighed, sounding very much like he’d given up already. “There’s nothing else I can really do.” A pause, “Thank you, Alex.”

Alex hesitated before saying, “No problem.”

There was another couple minutes of silence. Neither moved. Alex swallowed and tried to come up with a reason to cut the moment short. He couldn’t think of anything. He was incredibly frustrated with that knowledge.

“You know I would never actually hurt you, right?” Noah finally asked.

“I’d like to believe that.” Alex mumbled, “I really would.”

He was reminded of the conversation he’d had with Habit in the diner back on New Year’s Eve. So far it was following more or less the same path.

Noah sighed yet again, “I’m not gonna be able to convince you, am I?”

Alex shrugged lamely. “I dunno. Maybe one day. Not today.”

He saw Noah nod a bit out of the corner of his eye.

He didn’t speak again, nor did he perform his usual gentle clap on the shoulder that he normally did as he left the room Alex was in. He hadn’t done it at all today, Alex noticed. That was weird. But at the moment he was thankful for the lack of contact from the rogue god. The last thing he needed was Noah touching him and triggering a panic attack. Not that he actually thought Noah could make him have a panic attack, but he wasn’t chancing anything.

He huffed softly to himself, pulled a sharpie from his jacket, and doodled the Rune of Severance on his laptop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, this chapter is a little on the late side... As in it went up on what's technically Friday for me... But I kind of forgot that I hadn't put the chapter up yet, admittedly. Like. It just slipped my mind until what is officially like 1:30 in the morning for me. But whatever I guess. The post date will say it went up on Thursday like it was supposed to, and in some parts of the US it really will go up on Thursday like it should have.


	36. The Rogue God and the Collective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, this chapter took me a little longer than I meant for it to. It isn't even that long! But I ran into a few roadblocks with it and I've been busy (my boyfriend moves in with me in like three days so I've been prepping for that), so it's a week late and probably a little lackluster. But I got it done! So that's what matters.  
> Anyways, hope you all enjoy this week's chapter of Trial and Error, and I'll see all you guys next week with chapter 37!

“Do you know how to give a tattoo?” Was _probably_ one of the weirder questions Noah had ever had to ask Habit.

“Yes,” Was _definitely_ not the answer he would have expected.

He wasn’t complaining, though.

“So if I were to provide you with the proper equipment, theoretically, you could give me a tattoo?” Noah raised a brow.

Habit raised his right back at him. “Why the sudden interest in ink?”

“Got an important one I need to get sometime soon.” Noah waved dismissively, shaking his head a bit, “Answer the question, Hab.”

Habit rolled his eyes. “Yes, my toasty love,” It came out both sarcastic and affectionate, and it was that that Noah loved about Habit if not anything else, “I could give you a tattoo if you got me the proper equipment.”

“... If I asked you to actually give me a tattoo within the next week, what would you say?” Noah’s words came out somewhat rushed from worry.

God, why was he still so awkward with Habit? By all accounts it didn’t make any sense. They’d lived together for almost a year, and they’d been dating for the last several months of that. On top of that, he was now a _god_ and therefore superior to Habit in at least one way. Really, Habit should be the one feeling awkward. Damn.

Habit blinked at him. “I’d say, ‘gimme the design and the gear,’ most likely.”

Wordlessly, Noah handed him a doodle of the Rune of Severance and motioned toward a table, where a medium-sized silver box with a handle sat. Habit examined the doodle for a long moment, then glanced at the box. He licked his lips and looked back to the Rune thoughtfully.

“Okay, am I supposed to know what this is?”

“You don’t have to know what it is, no.”

“Good, cuz I’m absolutely clueless.” He said, “This is what you want, though?”

Noah nodded.

Habit hummed. “Okay. It’s simple enough, I can manage it.” He said, “When do you want it done?”

A shrug, “Whenever you feel like doing it, so long as it’s within the next week.”

“... How about right now?” Habit suggested. “Or, well, not _right now,_ but today?”

“That’d work.” Noah said, shifting a bit, “You’re way more on board with this than I was expecting you to be.” He noted.

Habit gave a shrug to that, eyes on the symbol once more. “I mean, first off, you’re my boyfriend and admittedly I’d probably kill Evan and Lyra both if you asked me to, so a tattoo isn’t really asking much of me, and secondly, tattoos _hurt_ and you know I like hurting people.”

That made Noah laugh. “Okay, fair enough.”

Habit grinned at him. “Just hang tight and lemme get a stencil made so I can do this right, okay?”

“You got it.” Noah agreed easily.

An hour or so later, Noah found himself lying on his stomach on Habit’s bed, Habit straddling his hips and sitting carefully on his lower back. Currently, Habit was carefully patting the tattoo stencil onto his left shoulder. He was also being unusually quiet, but Noah chose not to question that. It was probably just because Habit was trying to be careful.

Habit’s hands soon left the stencil be, moving instead to Noah’s lower back, just above where he was sitting. He absently rubbed at the tense muscles there until they began to relax, smiling to himself. Noah could just barely see the smile over his shoulder, but he could see it nonetheless, and it made him feel all warm and fuzzy. God he was a sap, wasn’t he? Oh well.

“You’re really sure you want me to do this?” Habit asked after several minutes of nothing but him rubbing at Noah’s back and making Noah melt a little.

“Yeah.” Noah confirmed, “I’m sure.”

“... Okay.” Habit said with a shrug. “Just making sure you still want to go through with it. We can stop if you need to, okay?”

“Mhm, I know.”

Habit was quiet once more as he checked the clock on his bedside table. There was a quiet hum from him, and then he was carefully peeling the stencil paper off of Noah’s skin. He examined the stencil for a moment before nodding to himself and reaching over to get the tattoo machine out of the box where he’d left it waiting.

“Ready?” He asked.

Noah hummed his confirmation with a slight nod. Sure, he wasn’t wild about this, wasn’t wild about putting himself through something like this, but… It was Habit. And if he was going to trust _anyone_ with this task, it was going to have to be Habit. He knew, without a doubt, that Habit would stop if he said stop. He knew that Habit’s hands were steady even when he was excited. He knew that Habit wouldn’t fuck this up, accidentally or on purpose, and he knew that, if nothing else, Habit was the only person in the world that Noah was willing to let hold him down and repeatedly drive a needle into his skin.

“Alright.” Habit said.

And then he switched the tattoo machine on and Noah forced his body to remain relaxed as he felt Habit move the needle into position. His lower back went rigid the second the needle sunk in for the first time, regardless. And it stayed rigid. And Noah was aware that he had his eyes squeezed shut, and that it was taking more work than he’d admit to to keep his shoulders relaxed.

* * *

Against all odds, it had been several weeks since the last time that Alex had seen his weird dream demon thing. Several weeks of decent sleep (his all-nighter researching protection symbols notwithstanding) and healing, itchy scratches all up and down his arms. He’d finally managed to lose the scabs off of most of them, leaving behind the pink and sensitive scars beneath.

Scars he could handle. At least they didn’t itch and hurt like the scabs.

Well, actually, he should probably be clearer on one thing. Up until right about now, it had been several weeks. He’d gone for longer than he could remember going in a long time without seeing it. But now…

Now here it was again. In his dreams.

He’d hit the hay early tonight, decided to try and better his sleep schedule. That had, evidently, backfired. He was aware he’d been asleep for a few hours already before he’d suddenly jerked up and recognized the signs that he was dreaming. The shadows floating up like steam. The otherworldly feeling his room had. The thick feeling in the air - like if he breathed too deep he’d choke. Like he was breathing bonfire smoke.

It was different this time, though.

The appearance of the thing was not preceded by the usual telltale whispering. It did not first appear by crawling up from the edge of his bed.

He sat where he always sat, at the head of the bed, perpendicular to his pillows. His right hip bone was pressed tightly against one of them, actually. But nonetheless, he sat like he always did. He sat facing the majority of the rest of the room, folded almost in half as he hugged his knees. He was just waiting for the whispering to start so he could be prepared to defend himself.

It never did.

And the thing, instead, crawled silently on the floor, rounding the corner of the bed to creep toward where he sat. He was glad his bed sat against the wall, suddenly, because the idea that it could creep up on him if it wasn’t was unsettling.

It did not attack as it usually did. It merely came to a stop in front of him, settling into a crouch not unlike an animal sitting back on its haunches. Those empty sockets stared up at him, but this time they held the glow he’d told Noah about. The glow that had stopped soon after informing him. And it waited, just watching him, silent, until he slowly released his knees and let his feet slide off the bed and hit the soft, carpeted floor.

“What do you want from me?” Alex asked with more courage than he would usually have under such circumstances. “Why are you doing this to me?”

_“I want nothing from you.”_ The thing at last spoke. _“It is not in my nature to want.”_

It did not answer his other question. Though annoyed, Alex didn’t comment on this.

“Why me?” He asked, restating the exact same question it had ignored but in a way that sounded a little less pretentious.

… God. His nose was already bleeding.

_“You have great potential.”_ It replied. _“But the choice was not wholly mine.”_

Just as he’d hoped, rephrasing had gotten him an answer. Now he just had to hope that he could get an answer to the new question he had. “If not just you, who else?”

_“The tall friend your current guardians hope to escape or kill had a say. As did a large creature who lurks with me in the safety of the trees.”_

“But why would the Administrator…” He trailed, completely at a loss.

_“Your torment is reason for them to become distracted from their goals - or, at least, that was the original belief. As it has turned out, your torment has only become a catalyst to them, much to the tall one’s ire.”_

That actually made him laugh. “So its suggestion backfired.”

_“More or less.”_ And against all odds, the thing sounded amused.

“So, is that…” Alex began after a moment, and then paused, chewing his lip, “Is that all the role I had to play? Or _have_ to play?”

_“In the beginning, yes. You have a new purpose, now.”_ It said. At Alex’s perplexed expression it continued, _“You are one of them. You have taken part in their ritual. You’ve reaped the benefits, slowly but surely. You have a much larger role in their future than the tall one was anticipating… Larger than any of us anticipated, actually.”_

“You mean… I’ve gotten… Powers?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to phrase it like that. Especially since eating the meat wasn’t what gave Noah _his_ powers, and he had no proof that it had given Habit anything except for his fangs and eyes… And that weird sensation he’d described where he just _needed_ to torment people.

_“That is exactly what I mean. Nothing terribly strong, as the ritual cannot give you those so quickly, but something beneficial nonetheless.”_

As it spoke, Alex saw his phone screen spring to life on the bedside table next to him. That had never happened before, to his knowledge. On the few occasions he’d managed to get hold of his electronics during these dreams, they never worked. Ever.

_“Pick up the phone.”_ The thing ordered. _“I will tell you how to use your power.”_

Against the voice telling him not to, he obeyed, picking up the phone.

_“Using powers is a matter of will.”_ The thing began, _“A strong sense of what you want is paramount._ **_Your_ ** _powers, especially, are examples of this.”_ It paused, letting that sink in. _“For the purposes of this dream, the phone you hold has a password you cannot and will not ever be able to guess.”_

Alex almost protested that, but chose to remain quiet. Surely there was a reason for that... And, of course, it was only for the remainder of the dream. His phone password would be back to normal when he woke.

_“Hold the phone before you, like you are now, and close your eyes.”_ Alex obeyed, but it waited a moment nonetheless, _“Now, envision the result you want. See the phone unlocked in your mind.”_ It continued to speak even as he began to comply, _“Now, keep that image in your mind and will it to be real. Will the phone to unlock for you.”_

He did so the very best that he could, trying to make the image in his mind as realistic as possible. Trying to imagine it was actually real. And then he heard the telltale pop-click tone of his phone unlocking. His eyes snapped open immediately and he gazed in mild shock at the home screen.

On the floor, the thing made a mildly pleased noise. _“Good, for the first attempt. You took a while, however. Probably for the best that this is a dream and you therefore have plenty of time to practice.”_ A brief pause, _“Again.”_

The phone automatically locked once more.

Alex swallowed and closed his eyes, repeating the process. He wasn’t sure it worked any quicker, but it sort of felt like it did.

_“Again.”_

Locked.

A few moments of concentration. Unlocked.

_“Again.”_

Locked.

Concentration. Unlocked.

And so on and so forth until finally…

_“Again.”_ It demanded softly, voice still calm.

Alex huffed out a breath through his nose, but obediently closed his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time in the dream alone. Okay. He just needed the phone unlocked. Again. Just picture it…

Once more the telltale pop-click noise.

He opened his eyes and gazed at the home screen. Okay, admittedly having done it in about five seconds in comparison to the several minutes it had taken at first was fun. But what good was this little power to him in the real world, exactly?

Almost as if it could read his mind, the thing began to speak again, _“Very good. You show remarkable skill with this power, and you are clearly a quick learner.”_ It said, _“You may wonder why this power is helpful to you, seeing as so far all it has allowed you to do, to your knowledge, is unlock a phone. And the answer is simple - this power has started off weak, like most others. Right now you can do mundane things with it, such as unlocking phones and turning a lamp on or off from a distance. With time, or the correct motivation, however, this power will grow stronger. For instance, your little all-nighter researching the Rune.”_ There was almost a laugh in its voice. Very faintly Alex noticed that his nosebleed had stopped at some point during his practice. _“You no doubt noticed that you could tell what was real and what was not, yes?”_ Oh. That made… So much more sense. “ _And you noticed that once you had decided to specifically research the Rune, you found only relevant articles?”_ Alex gave the barest hints of a nod, _“That was your new power hard at work. Your dedication to the task made it easier - you weren’t very interesting in unlocking the phone, so it took effort. But for things that you have interest and intent for…”_

Alex got the message, more or less. “So… Technopathy?”

_“In a manner of speaking. It is not just technology that your powers will affect, but it will be the easiest to manipulate.”_

Hesitation. “... Cool.”

It laughed. _“You adolescent boys, when given powers, have such wildly different and yet predictable reactions.”_

Alex grinned down at it rather meekly. It merely huffed out another laugh. The glow in its eyes died down slowly.

_“Your powers do not keep me at bay, I must remind you. But your torment is… No longer a priority. It is best if you wake up soon, nonetheless - although you may wish to remain in your room. I do believe your housemates are up to mischief.”_

Alex made a rather disgusted face, setting his phone back on the nightstand. “I have a couple questions, first.”

_“Very well, ask. But be quick about it.”_

“First off, why do you act like a feral animal out in the real world but act at least mildly civilized in my dreams? When you’re not attacking me, that is.”

_“I cannot speak to you in the real world. Not in the conventional way. My vocal cords simply are not capable of forming human speech.”_ It explained, sounding just the least bit impatient, _“And your other inquiries?”_

“Inquiry,” Alex corrected before he could stop himself, “Just one other.” It nodded to him in a sort of “go on” way. “How do I wake myself up? It can’t possibly be as easy as just willing myself awake. I’ve tried that before.”

_“Lie down.”_ It ordered. _“And simply try to go to sleep. That should work.”_

“That makes perfect sense.” He uttered, mildly unimpressed, but didn’t contest it point blank.

He did as he was told, turning to lie back against his rather impressive collection of pillows and pull the top cover back over his legs. He rolled onto his side and pulled the cover as tight against his body as he could. With one last look at the thing still sitting on its haunches next to his bed, he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. That was how he usually made himself go to sleep, after all.

He blinked his eyes back open after a long moment, not really expecting anything to have changed. He was pleasantly surprised to find that it had worked, and he was now in his room in the real world. There was no strange dream monster sitting on his floor, his room had only the normal types of shadows draping it. None of that floaty bullshit.

Thank God.

He sat up and stretched a bit, then went to scratch at his nose - wait. Oh, dammit, his nosebleed had carried over. He had dried blood caked to the skin between his nose and mouth… There was a little on his lips and chin, too. Jeez. That had never happened before. The scratches carried over unwaveringly into his waking life from the dreams. The nosebleeds he occasionally got from listening to the demon talk always stayed in the dream world.

Well, he guessed it wasn’t really so bad. He’d take a nosebleed over heavily bleeding lacerations in his arms any day, dream demon induced or not.

He slowly stretched once more, straining his ears a bit just to see if he needed to turn on music or something. He didn’t hear anything… He wasn’t chancing it though. He grabbed his laptop and opened up Netflix.

What to watch…

* * *

“You doing okay, babes?” Habit’s voice and the lack of the machine’s buzzing made Noah stir slightly.

He hadn’t necessarily passed out or gone to sleep while Habit was giving him a tattoo, but he hadn’t been paying complete attention either. For the most part he’d been in that weird disoriented state where nothing around him seemed entirely real… Except maybe the pain itself. All of his focus otherwise had been on making sure that the rune worked.

“Mmfine.” Was Noah’s mumbled response, “Is it done?”

“Yeah, it’s done.” Habit assured him. “You spaced on me, didn’t you?”

“Little bit.” Noah admitted.

Habit just snorted, leaning over to carefully put the machine back into the box. He moved slowly and deliberately, shifting the barest amount here and there. He still slipped up, though - Noah still felt his erection brush up against his lower back. It made him muffle a snort in his arm. Was Habit actually trying to hide that from him?

“Lemme get a look at the tattoo real quick and then we can take care of your boner.”

Habit, evidently, choked on air, then proceeded to wheeze. “Should have figured you’d notice.”

“But of course.” Noah couldn’t help smiling.

“Here, I’ll just…” Habit leaned over to the bedside table this time, grabbing his phone from on top of the clock. “I’ll just take a picture of it.”

“Gotcha.”

He was fine with that. Though he assumed part of the reason Habit was just going to take a picture of it was so he could keep him face down on the bed. He liked to take Noah from behind, and Noah knew that. It made him want to snort again, but he didn’t for the sake of not coming off as not being interested in this going somewhere. Because he was very interested. He just found it funny that Habit would enjoy taking him like an animal was all.

There was the flash of the photo being taken, and then Habit was holding his phone in front of Noah’s face.

Noah examined the picture rather skeptically, but was pleasantly surprised to see that Habit had drawn it perfectly. That was good. It didn’t _have_ to be perfect to work, but it definitely helped. He was sure the satisfied look on his face told Habit all he needed to know.

The phone was returned to the bedside table and then Habit was shifting a bit above him, moving so he was sat more on Noah’s thighs than on his back. There was one shameless thrust of his hips, grinding his erection against Noah’s ass, and then he was lifting off of him and the bed entirely.

“Guessing you want me on my hands and knees?” Noah queried, glancing at Habit over his shoulder.

Habit nodded as he undid his belt. “Yep.”

Noah hummed and chose to simply ‘poof’ out of his clothes rather than getting up and then laying back down in order to take them off. Habit made a noise of appreciation at the quick work, then another when he lifted onto his hands and knees. And then Habit had the lube in his hand and Noah was preparing himself mentally for the feeling of being stretched.

Probably a good deal of the reason that Habit enjoyed taking him from behind was the fact that it was easier for him to see what he was doing, and also because he could pull Noah’s head back by his hair to make him arch his back, _and_ he could leave bites and hickeys all over his back, where Alex couldn’t see them. Noah ruminated on this as Habit swiftly worked him open, thankful for his ability to space out but still thoroughly enjoy the sensations.

He quickly swatted down the part of him that tried to make him think that Habit _actually_ liked taking him from behind because that way he couldn’t see his face. He knew that wasn’t the case. He knew Habit actually preferred to see his face, but he liked this position better than having Noah on his back or riding him. It caused some minor internal conflict for Habit at times, actually.

Oh, and another reason Habit probably wanted him on his hands and knees was so he could admire his handiwork with Noah’s tattoo, which would undoubtedly need to be given some care once they were done unless Noah chose to heal it himself rather than letting it heal normally.

He licked his lips as Habit removed his fingers and lubed himself up.

Pressure. Then the sting of that last little bit of stretching he needed. A low groan from him and one from Habit at about the same time.

And then there was a hand firmly grasping a handful of his hair, another holding tightly to his hip, and he was getting fucked into the mattress. And he did mean that _almost_ literally. Habit’s hips were powerful enough to push him a little bit forward and a little more firmly into the bed, so long as he allowed that to happen, which he was more than happy to do. Truth be told he liked having control taken from him from time to time, and even more so when it was Habit taking control from him.

He guessed that was just a product of rarely being in power around Habit before and being fairly comfortable with that and the idea of Habit being stronger than he was.

After all, if he was comfortable with Habit being stronger than him, having power over him before, and confident that Habit would take care of him when he was in control, then why would he want to change anything just because a technicality now stated that he was the stronger of the pair?

He did his best to roll his hips back to meet the thrusts that Habit delivered, mouth hanging open as he panted and groaned, fingers tangled in the sheets. He gave himself completely to Habit in the only way he knew how.

Habit rewarded this by leaning in closer and laving bites and kisses across his back.

He all but melted at the contact, the affection, and soon enough they each came - Noah onto the sheets, and Habit inside of him. Noah fought not to collapse onto his mess, eyes sliding closed when Habit shifted behind him and pressed a kiss directly in between his shoulder blades. He smiled to himself and felt Habit doing the same.

Man, he was a fan of this. He’d really like to keep doing this for… Well, preferably for _forever._

* * *

The remaining time until the meeting passed quicker than Noah would have liked, and it passed with an almost suspicious lack of the Observer’s presence. Noah already knew, of course, that he did indeed plan on going to the meeting, but the Collective didn’t know that for sure. And the Observer had agreed to return before the meeting to confirm his answer as a definite yes or no. That he wasn’t showing up made Noah’s paranoia skyrocket and brought Firebrand to stash a loaded revolver in his pocket almost at all times.

You know.

Just in case.

It wasn’t necessary, of course - Observer showed up on the day the meeting was apparently meant to take place, just as blind as he’d been the last time and clearly put out that he was there.

“The meeting is in less than an hour.” He said, unamused, “And I’ve no desire to be set on fire today, so let’s get this over with.” He shifted, crossing his arms, “What’s your answer?”

Noah ignored the strange look that Habit gave him in response to the Observer’s question, crossing his own arms. “Believe it or not, I’ve decided to go.” He said, “Though I suppose you’ll have to be sure that I actually arrive?”

“Yes.”

Noah nodded to himself. “Fine. We’re leaving now?”

“Yes.” Observer repeated.

Noah turned to Habit and kissed him briefly. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“... Okay.” Habit’s forehead creased, but he didn’t question it at all.

He allowed Noah to walk over to the Observer, and he allowed Firebrand to promptly port away with the other Collective member.

Turning to Alex once the other two were gone, however, he asked, “What the fuck was that about?”

* * *

Firebrand was sure that, had teleporting taken anywhere near as long as an average trip, it would have been an indisputibly awkward affair for he and the Observer both.

Thankfully, however, it only took about a second and a half to get from Habit and Noah’s home to the Collective’s mansion… Though that did not, of course, completely eliminate any awkwardness. Observer’s annoyance appeared to have faded upon their departure, but there was still a tense sort of displeasure about him that Firebrand couldn’t quite place and didn’t really want to question. He had his suspicions on what had Observer acting so uncomfortable, and as such he’d really prefer not to dwell on it if at all possible.

His mind unwillingly flickered back to the Observer’s fangs in his throat while Deadhead pulled his guts out. To the almost reverent way that the Observer had touched him even when he was beating him. And deep down he knew why Observer was acting weird right now based on those memories.

He shoved the memories away before he could get stuck walking down memory lane for the next several hours with no way of getting out unless someone else roused him from the reverie. Honestly. What did he care if the Observer had a thing for him? He really should have thought of that before he got involved with this shit - maybe even told Noah from the get-go.

All things considered, Noah really wouldn’t have minded dating Kevin. Maybe would have been able to feel the same for him, given time.

But, no. That wasn’t happening now. There was no way in hell. It was one thing to be with Habit, who he’d had a crush on for damn near a year and who he’d given explicit consent to more or less torture him for the mutual benefits of it, and another thing entirely to be with a guy who had dropped him like a hot potato nearing two years ago now and when he finally came back it was to snoop on him and then torture him with the help of a literal Nazi and some weird rapist.

He ignored the look that Observer was giving him the best he could while still filing away the possible meanings of the expression. For the most part he looked… Maybe confused? Like he had noticed _something_ but couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

Oh well. Let him wonder.

“Right.” Firebrand said, stepping further into the house from where they’d appeared in the foyer. He examined the sparsely decorated room and the plush rug leading up to the stairs before continuing, “I don’t suppose you want to tell me what this meeting is about?”

“Partially your refusal to obey,” Observer responded from behind him, “Among several other things - the ascension of your…” He trailed for a second, and Firebrand could _feel_ him making a face, _“Boyfriend…”_ The annoyance was clear in his voice, “Being one of them.”

“Oh, is _that_ what we’re calling torturing and killing people these days?” Firebrand replied with as much snark as he could muster.

A glance over his shoulder showed him that Observer was giving him a dirty look. Good.

“Any other questions?” Observer hissed out.

“How many others are there?”

“Well, you’ve met me, Swain, and Deadhead…” Observer huffed, “So not counting you? Only three others, currently. You’ll meet them today.”

Firebrand nodded. That was less than he had been expecting, but he could work with that. “I suppose I’ll be learning their names when I meet them.”

“Precisely.” Observer agreed, “They’re all already here. Out back. In the garden you were so fascinated with during your time here.”

Firebrand had a passing thought that he would very much like to turn that very garden into one big bonfire. He pushed the thought away, but kept it in mind for if things went south. It would be pretty funny to set the whole backyard ablaze and watch as the rest of the Collective screamed and had to teleport away to avoid burning to death while he stood, unharmed, amongst the flames. Probably laughing like a maniac all the while.

… He’d been around Habit entirely too much.

* * *

The meeting went shockingly well, all things considered, Firebrand had to say. The Rune of Severance worked _perfectly_ and left the Administrator clearly irritated with him, and overall nothing terrible happened. They made plans right in front of him to eventually take Habit and make him ascend, but Observer made sure to mention that Firebrand was exceeding their expectations of his power and might be able to stop them, especially given time to prepare.

After the meeting was over, the Administrator silently granted him the knowledge of the other members, who he hadn’t met face to face and had only vaguely seen through the gloom.

These members were Persolus, who appeared hunched and cloaked in shadows, and seemed to be an old man, Cursor, who appeared to be a woman nearing middle age with large X’s over her eyes, and Mr. Scars, who bore a striking resemblance to Noah’s late cousin, Milo.

Delving a little deeper showed that he _was_ Milo.

Needless to say, Firebrand wasn’t happy about this development. He didn’t say anything about it, though. Just examined him from a distance for a moment before he began to make plans on how to keep the rest of the Collective away from Habit as he prepared to head home. But he was stopped by the thing that was, once, his cousin.

His very, very depressed cousin.

“Noah?” He asked, head cocked to the side.

“Not right now, no.” Firebrand replied, turning to face him.

He didn’t need to explain - Mr. Scars clearly knew what he meant because he nodded in response before speaking, “Even if you’re not Noah… You were, once. And I want both of you to know that I didn’t kill myself - I wouldn’t have done that to you. Deadhead’s the one who really killed me… And a while before I ‘killed’ myself, at that.”

“Your suicide was staged, then?” Firebrand quirked a brow. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Mr. Scars nodded again, “Not something I was on board with, myself, but when I’m given an order…” He trailed and his hand moved to his lower arm, picking at scabs there and rubbing over old scars.

No wonder they called him ‘Mr. Scars’.

“You’ve no choice but to obey.” He deduced. Another nod from the other. “I can understand that. Noah might have a harder time accepting it - or he might not. I suppose it depends.” He shrugged.

“You seem less separated from him than the rest of us are from our original selves.” Mr. Scars pointed out, “And you can disobey the Administrator. How?”

“I’m not sure why I’m less separated from Noah than you lot are from whoever the hell you were before you ‘ascended’,” Firebrand said flippantly, “And quite frankly I don’t care. But as for disobeying the toothpick man? From what I’ve gathered it has something to do with the fact that Habit got me out of this hellhole before I fully revived. Although that would have been made moot by my coming here if that was the only reason, as the Administrator could have easily taken control of me as soon as I arrived.”

“There’s another reason, then?” Mr. Scars asked. He sounded damn near hopeful.

“Yes.” Firebrand replied unhelpfully.

“... Would you tell me?”

“Meet me in my new home as Milo and I will. Otherwise? No. I can’t trust that easily outside of my home.”

Scars nodded, sighing. “If I can manage to make it there without suspicion, you can count on Milo appearing to inquire about it.”

They didn’t say anything else, and Firebrand again made to leave. This time he was stopped by Observer.

Good Lord.

He was never going to get out of here, was he?

Annoyed, he turned to Observer. “And what do _you_ want?”


	37. Moral Dilemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, you guys! As of this chapter, Trial and Error is officially the longest thing I've ever written by _all_ categories. Chapters, word count, page count... All of it. At 246 pages, 37 chapters, and a whopping 122,833 words, it surpasses all of my other works _by a landslide!_ And the most terrifying part is? It's not even done yet!

Some time after Noah - or, rather, Firebrand - departed with the Observer for their little meeting with the Administrator, Habit, too, left the house, leaving Alex alone and not at all bothered by that. He was unsure what, exactly, Habit had gone off to do, but he thought he may have heard Habit say  _ something _ about going to the store, so he could assume that the young man had simply gone shopping while he could do so without being on his toes the entire time, on the lookout for members of the Collective.

Alex, admittedly, didn’t really care. He only cared that he had some time alone. And a considerable amount of it, too. He may not have been listening very closely when Habit mentioned going to the store, but he’d listened when Habit said he’d be gone for the next several hours.

Currently, he was planning on using the time alone to finally watch  _ Would You Rather. _ He’d been considering watching it for himself ever since the day he’d caught the end of it, but something about trying to watch a horror (or would it be classified as a thriller?) movie while Habit was around felt… Wrong. He wasn’t sure why. He just knew that that was how it was and he likely wasn’t going to be able to change it any time soon.

So far, he had managed to pull up Netflix and select the movie, but he hadn’t started it yet.

Mostly he was trying to psych himself up for watching it, if he was honest. He was sure it couldn’t be  _ that _ bad. Habit had seemed to be enjoying it, meaning it was at least decent in terms of story and mild to severe in terms of gore. He was leaning toward “mild” based on what he’d seen. Sure, some of it was fucked up, particularly the eye-cutting thing, but if that was the worst there was then he’d be totally fine.

He took a deep breath and pressed play at long last.

It was maybe fifteen minutes into the movie that a frantic knocking came to the front door, and Alex’s stomach dropped into his shoes. He hastily paused the movie and moved to a different selection, then tried to kick his blanket off of his lap without tripping himself in the most timely manner he could. The frantic knocking continued, somehow turning more frantic, and then Alex was there, opening the door wide.

He was already ushering the obviously terrified girl into the house before she could even open her mouth to speak. The wild look in her eyes and the bloody bandages covering her arms combined with the backdrop of the forest told him all he needed to know.

One last glance out of the door before he fully closed it showed their mutual tormentor lingering a few feet from the porch, crouched as if waiting to pounce. But somehow Alex knew the pounce would never come, even if he left the door standing wide open. The thing had done what it intended. It had chased the girl into the house.

He remained with his hand firmly on the door for a moment after he closed it, then slowly turned toward the terrified young woman behind him. She was staring, panting, at him and the door both.

“I-” She gasped out.

“You’re safe.” Alex assured her, taking a deep breath to settle his own nerves, lifting his hands placatingly. “It’s okay.”

A helpless sort of whine escaped her, though some of the terror did seem to fade from her form.

Slowly, ensuring that he wouldn’t startle her, he approached and placed a hand on her shoulder. He guided her through turning toward the living room, then stayed at her side, hand still in place, to the other armchair in which the last victim had once sat. He winced at the thought.

Coaxing her into sitting down was easier than he would have expected, and then he was wrapping his blanket around her shoulders, kneeling down in front of her and helping her to take deep breaths and calm down.

“It’s okay,” He repeated, soft and patient, “You’re safe. You’re gonna be okay. Just focus on breathing. Nice and slow... Yeah, just like that. Good. You’re safe, alright? You’re safe. You can relax.”

And, after a few minutes, she did, if only slightly.

“Nowhere is safe from that thing,” She said weakly, “It’s gonna get me as soon as I fall asleep.”

Alex managed to internalize the wince he wanted to give in reply to both that statement and the lie he was about to tell. “No it won’t,” He said, “It can’t get you in here.”

“You don’t know that,” She protested.

“Yes I do.” Alex replied as calmly as he could. He backed off a bit, rolling up his sleeves to show her the barely healed scars all up and down his forearms. As her eyes widened at the sight, he repeated, “Yes I do.”

“It… It was after you, too?”

Alex nodded. “It was, yeah.” Another lie on the tip of his tongue, “It hasn’t done anything to me since I got here, though. You’ll be safe as long as you stay inside.”

“Will it get me if I go back out?” She asked softly after a moment of quiet.

Alex nodded grimly.

“How do you know that?”

Man, he’d better be getting something friggin’  _ spectacular _ in return for all these lies he was telling. He was already starting to get uncomfortable with it. “There was another like us, a month or so ago. He thought it would be safe to leave after a couple of days. He was… He was wrong.” He swallowed, “He was so horribly wrong.” A shudder that was more the product of disgust at his lie than of the supposed memory he was experiencing. “I can… I can still hear the screaming.”

Sounding haunted… Well. It wasn’t a difficult feat, all things considered. He’d been through some shit. And, while he couldn’t  _ actually _ hear Aiden’s screaming, because Aiden hadn’t screamed, he remembered that his two guardians had killed him in cold blood somewhere beneath where he was currently crouching. He remembered that the meat they were eating right now was what was left of him.

… And he remembered that they were about halfway through their stores of meat.

Oh, God, that was why this girl had showed up, wasn’t it? That was why the thing had chased her here. They’d almost been entirely out the last time they’d got someone, and it had been uncomfortable, undoubtedly, for the other two to be so close to constant gnawing pain. He wouldn’t know, personally, because he neither ate much of the meat, nor did he get hunger pains that could only be satisfied by it.

But, yeah, without a doubt, that was how and why this girl had ended up here. There was no other sensible explanation.

And, god dammit, there was nothing he could do about it. Absolutely nothing. Even if he sat idly by, comforting and getting attached to this girl, inevitably she would be killed to satisfy the cravings that Habit and Noah both had. Sure, Noah’s cravings were infrequent even when he wasn’t eating the meat on a regular basis, but eventually they’d hit him like a freight train and he’d need to fix them.

This girl was going to die no matter what, and Alex knew that. If he didn’t do anything, she’d die. If he tried to help her, she’d still die. If he tried to hide her, they’d find her and she’d die. If he convinced Habit and Noah not to kill her to eat her, she’d eventually learn what was going on and one way or another, she’d die. And if he sent her back out into the woods… She’d die.

He made an executive decision.

He didn’t like hurting people, but right now… Right now he could make an exception.

He just had to get her into the basement and he could at the very least incapacitate her, which would be better than letting her sit up here thinking she was safe and then her feeling even more betrayed when he let her die.

“... So I’m stuck here forever?” She asked at last.

“Not… Necessarily.” He replied somewhat hesitantly, “There’s a way you can go outside safely, even leave for good, but… Well, it sounds weird. I don’t want you to think I’m crazy.” He rubbed at the back of his neck averting his gaze.

“I’d be more worried if you didn’t sound a little crazy.” She admitted, “I’m willing to try anything to get away from that thing.”

“Well,” He chewed on the inside of his cheek for show, “There’s this… Ritual, I guess… That I could do. The people who were here before I showed up did it for me, and apparently someone did it for them at some point… It lets you leave without it being able to come after you or even find you.” He was coming up with all of this off the top of his head, but so far it sounded convincing.

“If they did it for you, why are you still here? And where are they?”

“They left after they did it for me and I told them I’d be alright by myself.” He ‘explained’, “And I’m still here for situations exactly like this, for the same reason they stuck around even though they could physically leave without being in danger. I can’t imagine what it would have been like for you if you’d stumbled upon an empty house… Or what it would have been like for me.”

“You’re… Not expecting me to let you leave me here alone if I let you do this ritual, are you?”

“Good God, no.” Alex scoffed, “I expect you still have friends and family to get back to. I wouldn’t dream of trying to keep you from that.”

“What about you? Don’t you have friends and family to get back to?” She furrowed her brows, seeming concerned.

He shook his head nonchalantly. “They thought I was dead before I even got here. Probably for the best. I don’t think there’s ever going to be someone willing to take my place.” He shrugged, “Oh well. This place has wifi and a Netflix account.”

“You’re… You’re actually willing to live here on your own for the rest of your life?”

“I’d like to end up with a companion at some point, but yeah, more or less.”

She blinked at him.

The conversation stalled and he, at last, stood, heading back toward his chair. He sat down on the edge of the seat, not yet letting himself get comfortable because he knew it was likely that she’d take his bait and ask him to do the fictitious ritual one way or another. Whether she wanted him to do it and let her leave or do it and have her stay as a companion, she’d probably ask him to do it.

“... What do I have to do for this ritual?”

And there it was.

“Nothing, really. You just have to come with me down to the basement, and I’ll do the rest.”

“Why the basement?” She asked, looking a little scared.

“That’s where all the materials are, and also it’s already set up for the ritual.”

She slowly nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. Is that where they did it for you?”

“Yep.” He smiled at her, “I was nervous, too, don’t worry.”

“... Can we do it right now?”

“Sure thing.” He stood, “We’ll go down together - the pull string for the light is, predictably, with the light, and I don’t want you to trip waiting on me to turn on the light.”

“Won’t  _ you _ trip?” She asked, standing as well.

“Nah,” He snorted, “I know my way to the string - I use the basement as storage, so I’m used to having to bumble around down there in the dark.”

She made a noise of understanding, and together indeed they headed to the basement door and down the stairs, Alex closing the door behind them. He led her out to the center of the basement, finding he could see fairly well in the gloom… Although judging by the way that she was clinging to him, that was not the case for the girl. Probably for the best.

“Alright, just wait right about here.” He said, carefully pulling away from her, “If I remember this is where the runes are.”

“Okay,” She agreed, “How far away is the pull string?”

“Not far,” He told her as he stepped away and looked for something to knock her out with. “It’ll just take me a little bit to get there without tripping.”

“Gotcha.”

He didn’t have long, he knew. She might not be able to see  _ yet, _ but her eyes would adjust eventually and she’d see him searching around for weapons.

As luck would have it, he stumbled (almost literally) upon a nearby hammer. It was dangerous, and too hard of a strike could potentially kill her, but he wasn’t worried about that. If he killed her by accident, it was all the better for her. She wouldn’t have to suffer at all that way.

“Oh, there’s one last thing,” He said as he turned back toward her, “For the ritual to work, I need your name.”

“Oh, uh… It’s Emily. Do you need my last name?”

“Emily… Beautiful name.” He commented, “It would help, but I don’t necessarily need it, no.”

“... Chapman.” She said. “If you ever manage to get out of here, maybe you can look me up. I’m from New Jersey.”

“What a coincidence!” He said, “I’m from Jersey, too!”

“That’s so cool,” She giggled, sounding somewhat excited.

He used her following babbling as cover for the sound of him moving back to her, then getting behind her. He swallowed hard, lifted the hammer…

“Hey, are you okay?” She suddenly asked, having not heard anything from him for a bit.

He winced. Swung.

_ CRACK. _

Emily went down like a sack of spuds.

Alex dropped the hammer instantly, scrambling to the floodlight to switch it on and assess the damage he’d done to her. If he’d killed her, fine. Habit would be home soon enough to deal with her before she started rotting. If he’d knocked her out, awesome, but he’d need to tie her up so she wouldn’t be able to get out when or if she woke up.

The light was almost blinding when it came on, and then he was back at her side faster than he should have been able to move. He ignored that and rolled her onto her back, unsure of where he’d hit her and unsure of whether or not he’d be able to keep his shit together if he  _ had _ killed her, despite his dismissals.

He felt blood in her hair and tilted her head, finding the wound almost on the back of her head, in line with her left ear. He could feel the crack in her skull when he touched at the injury, crack extending past where the skin had broken. He cringed and swallowed. Okay, wound located. He’d fractured her skull. He felt around for a pulse, finding a steady one, and her breathing was still even.

Emily was alive.

Deep breath. Push down the panic. There had to be rope or zipties or something down here, right?

His tormentor appeared at his side.

_ “There is rope on the shelf closest to you, child.” _ It informed him.

“Thanks.” He said, voice shaking almost as much as his hands as he stood and went to the indicated storage shelf, retrieving a considerable length of rope from the bottom shelf. “I, uh. I don’t know how to do this. I…”

_ “You are panicking.” _ It gathered,  _ “Which is understandable given your usual disposition on harming others.” _ It was calm,  _ “Do you remember the power I taught you to use?” _

“The… Oh.” He nodded to himself, “Yeah, yeah I remember that. You said it work on things other than my phone. Can I… I can use it to tie the ropes, can’t I?”

_ “Very good.” _

Alex accepted the praise, temporarily abandoning the rope in order to grab Emily under the armpits and haul her over to what appeared to be some kind of concrete support pole. He leaned her against it, adjusting her until her weight rested evenly and she wouldn’t fall over. Deep breath. He closed his eyes and knelt where he was next to her. He imagined her tied up like some kind of hostage in a movie. Or a TV show. He imagined the length of rope coiling around her torso and arms, securing itself tightly, but not too tight. He willed it to happen. Willed the rope to obey his commands and bind Emily.

He felt his nose start bleeding, a headache building in between his eyes. And then when he finally dared to open his eyes and look, he saw Emily bound exactly as he’d imagined.

He sniffed, wiping away the blood trailing down to his chin, and looked for the creature. It was gone. He wasn’t sure it had ever actually been there to begin with.

He shakily stood, wiping his face again, and stumbled toward the stairs, making his way up them and back into the main house. He closed the door tightly and headed to the bathroom.

The first thing he did was plug his nose. Then he took some pain medication.

And then he headed back into the living room, sat down in his chair, and curled up as tight as he could.

Dear God.

He’d nearly killed a person. He’d nearly killed someone he otherwise could have been pretty good friends with. He’d lied to her, gotten her to trust him, and then he’d led her into the basement and cracked her fucking skull with a hammer. He’d betrayed the trust he’d dishonestly gotten from her, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt like this much of an asshole in his entire life. Fuck, he was  _ awful, _ wasn’t he?

He was. First he’d purposely gone back on a promise to his brother, and now he’d lied to and betrayed and  _ beaten _ an innocent girl.

He curled tighter, somehow, putting his hands over his head and tucking his face into his knees. He tried to tell himself he had no choice. But he knew he did. But he  _ didn’t, _ dammit. It was do this himself or let her  _ know _ he’d betrayed her when Habit came back and killed her. This was the best possible option, and this was the best possible outcome.

This was the _best_ _possible_ _outcome._

_ This was the  _ **_best possible outcome._ **


	38. Bleeding Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, first off, I am so sorry that I left this completely untouched last month. That wasn't my intention. But due to it being my last semester of college and last month being the more stressful part of the semester, I didn't have a lot of time on my hands between doing schoolwork and trying to work on my Camp NaNoWriMo project.  
> To the best of my ability, Trial and Error will be resuming its scheduled updates as of today and staying on track until completion.  
> Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck it out from the beginning of this mess, and thank you to any new readers. The amount of hits on this monstrosity alone makes my day every single time I look at it. The amount of kudos and comments is highly encouraging as well. So thank you. I'll try my best to live up to the expectations you all have, going forward.

The house was uncharacteristically quiet when Habit entered through the front door, arms laden with groceries. Quiet enough that he was concerned Alex might not be there.

Mildly concerned for the younger male, he called out, “Alex? I’m home.” As he knocked the door closed with his foot.

He wasn’t sure whether he expected a response or not, but when he heard Alex’s voice from the living room calling out a mild, “Hey,” he couldn’t even describe the relief he felt.

The concern clawed its way right back into his throat when Alex didn’t come to see what he’d brought home. He quickly deposited the groceries onto the kitchen island, bustling back out and into the living room, where he could see Netflix was on, displaying a movie but not yet playing it. He looked around, starting to chew on his cheek and toy with the hems of his sleeves, a combination of things he rarely did because of the level of unease they implied in him.

Only some of his tenseness melted out of him this time, when he caught sight of Alex in his chair, knees pulled up to his chest, forehead against them.

“Alex?” He asked, moving closer, “You okay?”

Alex very visibly took a deep breath, letting it out shakily before he lifted his head to look at him. His eyes, for the moment, appeared to have transformed to full blue - there was a possibility that was all that was wrong, and Habit really hoped that was it - and his nose was plugged on one side with a small wad of toilet paper, which he could see traces of red creeping down. Very slowly, Habit settled down in a kneel in front of him, still chewing at his cheek, and gave Alex a good once-over. He couldn’t see much with him all curled up like that, but he could see that a) Alex hadn’t been attacked by that thing again, because his arms were uncovered and unharmed, and b) there appeared to be blood smeared on Alex’s right hand, from the first knuckle almost to his wrist. There was also some minor splatter down the length of his arm and a little on his face - and now that he was looking it was clear blood had been smeared away from under his nose. A nosebleed, then? But that didn’t explain the splatter…

“I… Um…” Alex coughed, eyes flickering away, toward anything else in the room, like keeping eye contact wasn’t something he was capable of right now, “It chased someone else here,” He finally managed.

Habit’s heart stopped. “It” was undoubtedly the thing that tormented Alex - that had been established. “The Administrator” got nicknames like “toothpick man,” “Stick-In-The-Mud,” and on one occasion, “Ol’ Thin Mints.” The _thing_ didn’t get nicknames like that. It got the usual “I’m not sure what that is” sort of nicknames. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that if it had chased someone here, Alex had had to deal with them. Had they fought him? Had he even had any contact with them before they were gone? Had that thing killed them before they got to the door?

“What happened?” He asked, forcing his voice to be level, forcing himself to sound calm because he didn’t want to scare Alex any more than he obviously already was.

Alex took another deep breath. “I… It chased a girl. A girl my age. She showed up banging on the door, obviously mid-panic attack. I brought her in cuz I didn’t know what else to do. It was just. Sitting a few feet from the porch. Watching.” Deep breath, “I didn’t know what to do. I calmed her down and we talked a little but. But it hit me that the only reason that thing had chased her here was probably to serve the same purpose Aiden ended up serving.” Alex seemed like, now that he was talking, he couldn’t sit still. He kept shifting minutely, fingers scratching somewhat at his arms, but not catching any of his scabs. Just catching on clear skin and that was obviously a conscious choice.

“Okay.” Habit, again, had to make himself sound calm, because admittedly he was feeling extremely empathetic today and the panic Alex was feeling was rubbing off on him a little. “What else?”

Alex chewed at his lip for a moment, eyes now focusing on his knees. “I had to think about it for a while. Had to think about the possibilities - I know we’re about halfway through our stocks of meat, cuz you mentioned that the other day. And I know that, in the long run, she wouldn’t make it anyway. Either it would end up killing her, she’d kill herself, or we’d… _You’d_ kill her.” He explained, voice softer now and, somehow, calmer, despite him obviously leading up to something much scarier than what he’d talked about so far, “So I… I decided I didn’t want her to suffer. And I definitely didn’t want her to feel betrayed when you or Noah took her into the basement, knowing I’d lied to her to make her feel better.”

Habit swallowed down the lump in his throat. This couldn’t be good. “Alex,” He said carefully, “What did you do?”

Alex hesitated. It wasn’t him pausing to do something else before he spoke, it was pure hesitance. He wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to say it.

But then he blew out a slow breath and said, “I convinced her to come down to the basement with me. Fed her some story about being able to help her - I dunno what. I wasn’t even paying attention to myself talking at that point.” A blatant lie, of course, but Habit wouldn’t ever know that, “Whatever I told her worked. She followed me. I hit in the head with a hammer. She’s still down there. I tied her up.”

“You… You _what?”_

Alex let his breath hiss through his teeth on the inhale this time, let it out in a short puff, and then, “Habit, did I fucking stutter?”

“Well pardon me.” Habit was unable to stop the frown on his face or the annoyed way the words came out, “I can’t help if I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you did something like that.”

Alex winced slightly. “... I know. Sorry. I’m just.” He made a noise that Habit didn’t quite have words to describe. “I cracked her skull. With a hammer. And I’ve gone through several cycles of distress over it already.” He puffed out a breath, “I’m getting a little tired of thinking about it, to be honest. It was a nice adrenaline rush while it was happening but now I’d prefer if I could just forget it happened.”

“It was a ‘nice’ adrenaline rush?” Habit questioned, incredulous.

“For about three seconds between being horrified at what I was about to do and then realizing what I just did, yeah.” Alex shrugged.

“... You’re not okay, are you?”

“All things considered I’m actually fine,” Alex sighed, “Just stuck in a loop thinking about what I did, which overall isn’t that bad. Like. I didn’t necessarily _have_ to do it, and I know that, but I also know that knocking her out and letting you kill her off is the most humane end she’s gonna get, so I’m pretty much at peace with the actual act of knocking her out and leaving her for you to kill. I just can’t get over the means to the end - specifically the lying to her and betraying her trust parts.”

“... So you’re just torn up about the lying? Not the head hitting part?”

“More or less? I mean. It bothers me that I did it, and it bothers me that I did it _like that,_ but yeah. I’m more concerned with the lying.”

“Well, I guess that’s better than you not being torn up about any of it or being torn up about all of it,” Habit let out in a mild huff, pushing himself to his feet. “Are you going to be okay if I leave you up here so I can take care of this?”

“I’ve already been up here thinking about it by myself for at least two hours, so yeah, I think I’ll be fine.” Alex at last made eye contact, giving him a thumbs up, “Dunno if she’s still out but given that I haven’t heard any terrified and confused screaming I’d assume she probably is.”

“You said you cracked her skull, right?” Habit quirked a brow. “With a hammer?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I doubt she’s waking up any time soon, buddy. Or, well, that she’d be waking up any time soon if she was going to be alive for more than a few more minutes.” Habit shook his head, “Point there was that a good hit to the head with something that will isolate the force to a small area, like a hammer, typically puts you down for the count once it’s knocked you out. You’ll have a chance of waking up later, but if she hasn’t woken up yet I’m doubting she’s waking up at all. But don’t quote me on that, I’m not a doctor, it’s just what I’ve picked up on over the years.”

“... Neat.” Was Alex’s reply to that as he let his legs unfold and stretched them out.

“Neat?” Habit asked, eyebrows raised.

“Neat.” Alex confirmed, grabbing his laptop. “I didn’t know that.”

Habit shook his head and returned to the kitchen, seeking out the knives he’d used with each of his victims in the past… Although the first guy didn’t really count as a “victim”. He’d already been dead when he arrived.

Whatever.

Knives collected, he headed toward the basement door. As an afterthought, as he was opening it, he called, “Hey, Alex, can you put up the stuff I brought home?”

“Sure.” Was called back.

As he headed down the stairs into the already lit basement, he heard Alex head into the kitchen.

He spotted the girl tied up to one of the support beams, just as Alex had said she’d be. Well. He hadn’t mentioned where she was tied up. But it was the principle of the thing.

She was still breathing, he could see that from the stairs, but her head was tucked against her chest, hair in her face, and she appeared, honestly, to be sleeping. He knew she wasn’t. He could see blood creeping down her neck to her shirt, obviously having matted her dirty blonde hair near the impact site in the time she was left alone.

He was barely aware of himself stalking forward, a low sound he couldn’t really identify for sure as a purr or a growl rolling out of his chest, until he’d made his way to the center of the room. He knelt in front of the girl, setting his knives down before grabbing her head to turn it while he felt around for the wound. He found the crack under the skin first, then followed it to the impact site. The sound coming out of his chest morphed into a sure purr at that - Alex had done good. He’d done _really_ good. Habit would have to find a way to reward him for his work, especially given he’d admitted himself to not having minded the work. Maybe Habit could ease him into doing more stuff like this…

Honestly, he needed to start easing Noah into it as well. As much as he loved the rush of power at killing someone, it’d be much easier if Alex or Noah could do it if he wasn’t around. But at this point there was little chance of them doing that; Alex because, while his morals seemed to allow cracking this girl in the head for her own sake, the probability of him being able to morally excuse the action of straight up murdering someone wasn’t high, and Noah because he just didn’t seem interested in that sort of thing. Firebrand had no problem with it, of course, and would probably sooner kill someone than simply incapacitate them anyway, but he wasn’t Noah. Habit didn’t doubt that Firebrand could kill someone if he needed to while Habit wasn’t around - it was _Noah_ he had doubts about.

He shook his head to clear it, pulling his now somewhat sticky fingers away from the girl’s wounded head. A good deal of the blood there was old, but there was a new flow winding past the coagulated bits.

He went to grab one of his knives, then thought better of it. What did he actually want to do? How did he want to kill this girl? He could make it _quick,_ of course, make it painless and put her out of her misery in a matter of moments, without her ever being any the wiser… But where was the excitement in that? The kill would still be satisfying, of course, and he knew that, but… He wanted it to be enjoyable. And for it to be enjoyable she had to at least feel what was happening, whether she actually knew about it or not, so…

Borderline torture it was, then. But nothing too extreme. He needed to leave himself some wiggle room so that the next kill could still be more intricate. And so he could take his time experimenting.

So he went for the knives again, picking up the smallest one. A paring knife. He’d used it the first two times to take the last scraps of meat off of the bones. It’d do well for what he needed it for. He just needed to make sure it hurt, not that it would be fatal right off the bat. He thought about what would hurt the worst, if she was conscious. Referring back to his adventures with Noah before most of this shit started told him the abdomen was apparently a fairly painful place…

He used the knife to cut the bottom of her shirt away first and foremost, then adjusted her so he could get at her abdomen. It was a compromising position. He found he didn’t care.

He examined her stomach for a long moment before deciding to go for the area over her hips. Doing it over or near a bone seemed to have the most painful results with Noah, and this girl’s hips were his only option given the way Alex had tied her up. The rope was coiled tightly around her waist, over her ribs.

He dug the knife into the mildly tanned skin there and dragged it over the protrusion of her hip. She visibly twitched, face scrunching up. Habit couldn’t help laughing, returning the knife to a spot just above his initial starting point and repeating the process. She reacted the same way, a whine escaping her throat this time.

But she didn’t wake up.

He grinned.

* * *

When Firebrand finally managed to get out of the mansion, after being forced into several conversations he’d have preferred to avoid, particularly one with Cursor, who appeared to be Milo’s mother, he was eager to return home. He appeared as Noah in the entryway, sighing in relief at finally being home…

But something felt  _ wrong. _

Some sick part of him worried they’d already come for Habit. That they’d already taken him while he was distracted.

He headed into the living room to try and assess the possible damage, only to find…

Only to find that everything was exactly as it should be, more or less. All of the furniture was in its usual arrangement, Alex was sitting in his chair typing away on his laptop, and the TV was playing some kind of cheesy looking B movie. Habit was nowhere to be found, which wasn’t necessarily unusual.

What  _ was _ unusual was that Alex appeared to have blood splattered on his face, and his nose was plugged on one side, the toilet paper he’d used to plug it very visibly red in places. He also seemed like he felt a little sick, but that… Looked like it was coming and going. He was in the middle of typing something, evidently lost to the world for the moment.

He gave a gentle prod to Alex mentally, not trying to get into his head given that the last time he had, Alex had been tense around him for several hours after the fact. He just wanted to get his attention this time… Preferably without making him tense for several hours.

At the prodding, Alex’s eyes flicked to him momentarily, then returned to the computer screen. He mumbled a greeting but made no move at all to actually initiate a conversation. 

Noah frowned slightly, approaching. “Everything alright?” He asked with some measure of concern.

“No.” Alex replied, tone flat.

Concern suitably intensified, Noah moved closer, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Alex fixed him with an uncharacteristically annoyed look before sighing and dropping the look. “Just look for yourself.” He grumbled, fidgeting in his seat, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Noah cringed at the implication, but felt some relief at the fact that Alex had clearly discussed whatever had happened already with Habit. He moved closer and knelt next to the chair to make things easier, and Alex didn’t so much as twitch when he carefully entered his mind. He did, however, more or less shove a set of memories at him, which was somewhat concerning because Noah wasn’t aware Alex had that much control of his mind. But he examined the offered memories nonetheless, feeling an odd churning in his stomach when he was finished.

Poor Alex.

He didn’t have the heart for this sort of thing at all.

… But he’d done it, and that was highly commendable.

Noah stood, reaching out to ruffle Alex’s hair, putting aside his mild concern of the appearance of the thing while Alex was in the basement. He couldn’t hear whatever it had said to Alex, but it had clearly spoken, given the responses he gave it.

“You did very well,” Noah said softly, “I’m sorry you had to do it, though.”

Alex gave a mildly amused-sounding huff.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Alex shrugged with one shoulder. “Maybe. Maybe not. I dunno.” He took a breath, removing his hands from his laptop at last to scrub at his face with his palms as he expelled a shaky sigh. “I’ve been bouncing wildly from not caring I did any of it, to being completely fucked up over lying to get her down there, to being fucked up over the entire situation, to not caring at all again.” He gave another of those sighs, paired with another shrug. “So it’s entirely up to chance whether or not I’ll be ‘okay’, honestly.”

Noah chose to ignore Alex’s cursing, since no good would come of commenting on it right at the moment. Alex clearly knew what he’d said, and Noah wasn’t going to bother him about the details - besides, he was distressed. People like Alex, who didn’t usually curse very much, had a tendency as a whole to drop a few f-bombs here and there when distressed, and otherwise.

It just felt out of character for him, was all.

“Do you want me to sit with you?” Was what he asked him instead.

“If you want to.” Alex looked up at him. “... I’d like it if you did, though.”

Noah promptly seated himself on the couch. “Need a distraction?”

Alex clearly hesitated before nodding. “I don’t want to bother you, though.”

“You’re not bothering me at all, Alex.” Noah rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to do it.”

“... Okay. What did you have in mind?”

“I figured I’d tell you about some of the dickwads I have to work with.” Noah snorted, giving him a grin.

Alex shot him an amused half-smile in return. “Go for it,” He said, closing his laptop and setting it aside, giving Noah his full attention.

“Right, well, you’ve ‘met’ the Observer…”

* * *

Habit was about three-quarters of the way through actually removing the organs from the now-dead girl, hand grasping her heart, when he was struck with a strange urge. It wasn’t entirely  _ unusual _ for him, exactly, because he thought weird shit all the time,  _ especially _ ever since becoming accustomed to eating human meat, but… Well. He’d never actually had the urge to bite a still-warm and bleeding human heart before.

… Fuck it.

He cut the connections swiftly and lifted it to his mouth. He licked his lips and swallowed, unexpectedly salivating despite not having any distinct thoughts of how tasty this was or wasn’t going to be. He ran his tongue over his teeth briefly, considering this once more before opening his mouth and biting into the organ like it was an apple before he could have any further second-thoughts.

Blood still held in the chamber directly beneath his fangs squirted into his mouth and onto his face. He wasn’t expecting it to taste good. But it did. This girl’s blood wasn’t near as… Well, it wasn’t as flavorful as Noah’s was on the occasions he’d tasted it, but it was still  _ good, _ at least. Noah’s tended to taste slightly spicy, with an odd woodsmoke sort of flavor to it. This girl’s leaned more into the citrus flavors, an odd mix between orange and lemon, apparently with sugar.

He swallowed down the blood in his mouth, chewing the rather tough chunk of muscle he’d bitten off before swallowing it down as well.

Someone cleared their throat behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Noah. He grinned at him. “Hey babe.”

“Any particular reason you’re eating her heart like an extremely demented vampire?” Was Noah’s response as he approached.

“I had an urge.” Habit shrugged, offering the rather leaky organ to him, “Besides, her blood tastes nice. Here.”

Noah gave him a look somewhere between exasperated and disgusted, but accepted the heart anyway, regarding it with that same look for a long moment. Finally he heaved a sigh, lifted it to his mouth, and bit down. The look of mild surprise on his face as he pulled it away told Habit he wasn’t as averse to the taste as he’d been expecting.

“Told ya it tasted good.” Habit snickered.

Noah rolled his eyes, but didn’t refrain from licking his lips to clean them as he offered the heart back to Habit. “If you intend to eat anymore of that, warn me before you kiss me later. I don’t need that surge of possessiveness when you don’t taste like you and I’m not expecting it.”

Habit just snickered again. “C’mere.” He said as he took the heart. “I kinda wanna give you a kiss right now.”

Noah rolled his eyes again. He complied, though, moving closer and letting Habit pull him close. He was the one who initiated the kiss, making Habit purr.

They separated after a moment, the kiss ending with Noah licking some of the leftover blood off of Habit’s cheek next to his lips. Habit grinned at him. Noah gave him an almost exasperated, but still affectionate smile, and then moved to take over removing the organs from the still fairly fresh corpse. Habit felt a swell of pride in his chest. Noah had still refrained from touching the body until it had been separated into its designated tubs the last time, not wanting to touch it at all in spite of Firebrand’s presence in his head, but now here he was. Going about the disemboweling business like he didn’t care about dipping his hands into a dead body.

God, Habit loved this guy.

… Er. He meant…

Actually, no, fuck it, yeah, he loved Noah. He loved him a _lot._  He just… Wasn’t sure he could admit it out loud as easily as he’d admitted it to himself. Here was to hoping that Noah didn’t ask him to say it any time soon. Or at all, actually. He’d like to avoid that particular fight.


	39. Methods of Ascension

Noah wasn’t entirely sure when or how the knowledge came to him, but he’d presume Firebrand, combined with the Collective’s absent minds when it came to keeping things from him, had something to do with it.

For all intents and purposes, though, to his knowledge he simply woke one day with the information in his head. Information on the Collective’s plans for Habit’s ascension. Information he, by all means, should not have if they wanted their plan to succeed.

He considered the plan very quietly, to himself, several mornings later, still lying in bed next to Habit and sleepily running his fingers through his hair.

The first part of the plan, sickeningly, hinged on an as of yet undecided member of the Collective finding and kidnapping Lyra. They’d use her as bait to lure Habit to them. Which was a pretty solid plan, admittedly, because even if Habit seemed to more or less be over his hopeless crush on her, she was still his best friend. He’d go after his best friend to make sure she was okay. No question about that.

The second part of the plan actually focused on getting Habit there and making sure he was “timely” about it. For every ten minutes it took for him to show up after they were sure their little ransom letter had arrived, they’d basically throw a dart at an anatomy chart and injure that part of Lyra’s body. And that sounded meme-y as hell, but that was _literally_ their fucking plan. Only difference was that instead of an anatomy chart and a dart it was a set of body part dice.

If Habit failed to show up within two hours of their ransom note arriving, they’d begin disemboweling her.

And no matter when Habit arrived, when he did they would cease all torture of Lyra and return her home on the condition that he allow them to force him to ascend. Observer would even offer to erase her memories of the event if that was what she wanted.

Again, Noah had to admit it was a pretty solid plan.

Habit would do pretty much anything in order to keep the people he cared about safe, allowing himself to be tortured and killed in cold blood included. He’d do it without any doubt in his mind. No second thoughts until it was already happening, and by then it would be too late. The only way he’d be able to get out of it would be if Noah (or, rather, Firebrand) showed up to save him, which was highly unlikely.

Even if he could show up and stop Swain and Deadhead (who would undoubtedly be doing the torturing and murdering unless Observer was feeling vindictive enough) there wasn’t much chance of him being able to get Habit out and back home without some kind of retaliation. Now he’d met the other members of the Collective he was almost completely certain that Cursor, at the very least, would be sent after him in addition to the Observer, Swain, and Deadhead in order to take Habit back and put him in his place.

He shuddered and placed a kiss on Habit’s forehead, worming his way out of the bed so he could get some coffee and hopefully calm himself down before he started panicking at the thought of those bastards touching his boyfriend.

And also so he could start planning some sort of counterstrike. You know. To fuck the Collective over yet again.

The first thing to occur to him, while he was still in the midst of trudging down the stairs to the kitchen, was that the best possible course of action would be to make Habit a god before the Collective could. It was a simple, yet brilliant, idea, and one that would work _great_ if only he had the foggiest idea of how to actually accomplish that.

He wasn’t privy to that information, however, likely for this exact reason.

So it was back to the drawing board.

With half a cup of very hot black coffee in him, he had the idea to just protect Lyra the best he could. However, he didn’t have the foggiest idea of how to accomplish _that_ either. His best bet there would be poofing up to New Jersey, kidnapping her himself, and hoping that he could keep hold of her until the Collective gave up on collecting her.

But that was a _really_ bad idea.

He drained the rest of his coffee with a sigh and was prepared to make another cup (this one composed of a bit more sugar and creamer) when he heard a knock at the front door.

Huffing out a sigh, he sat down his coffee cup and poofed to the door, hand already on the knob before he could really think about it very much. He opened it only a crack, peering out at the backdrop of his actual Florida street instead of the forest, for once. After examining that, his eyes at last caught on the visitor, and it was only through sheer force of will he managed not to gasp.

_Milo._

Holy shit, Mr. Scars had actually gone through with it.

He didn’t immediately greet him as he opened the door wider and ushered him in, but he credited that to shock at actually seeing his dead cousin more than any genuine coldness he felt for him.

Regardless, Milo didn’t seem particularly bothered by his lack of a greeting.

He seemed much more concerned with getting into the house and away from the door as quickly as possible, shuffling a little further down the entry hall and lingering at the edge of the entrance to the living room. Noah promptly shut the front door and paced past him, back into the kitchen. He could hear Milo following a respectable distance behind him.

He motioned for Milo to sit down when he arrived in the kitchen, which Milo did with only mild hesitance.

“... Coffee?” He asked in place of actually saying hello, since ‘hello’ felt… Awkward.

“Yes please.” Milo replied, sounding about as awkward as Noah felt.

Maybe suggesting this hadn’t been the best idea on Firebrand’s part… But, well, that was a problem for Firebrand, not Noah. Sure, Noah was dealing with the issue, but it wasn’t _technically_ his fault and not _technically_ his problem. He was just the fall guy. And he was also panicking ever so slightly for reasons he couldn’t place and it was making his thinking rather flawed, if he did say so himself, so if his thoughts weren’t even making sense to him that was probably why.

That was _definitely_ why.

He quietly procured another mug regardless, trying to draw on enough of Firebrand’s influence to calm himself down and nothing more. Thankfully enough, it worked, and he managed to make their coffee without dropping anything because of his shaky hands. He still remembered how Milo liked his coffee from the rare events where he drank it before his staged suicide, so hopefully that hadn’t changed, because that was exactly how he made it.

He sat the mug down quietly in front of him, retaking his seat on the opposite side of the table.

“Thank you.” Milo sighed, sounding more relieved than Noah was expecting. He pulled the mug into his hands and took a slow drink of it, eyes closed. “I’m uh… Surprised you remember how I like it.” He admitted after setting the cup down.

Noah couldn’t help a small smile as he took a drink of his own coffee. “I tend to hang on to that sort of information.”

Milo smiled a little as well.

They didn’t speak for a while.

The awkwardness of the situation gradually faded over the next few minutes, Noah finding himself relaxing more and more and being unbelievably glad for it. He didn’t want to be tense and standoffish to his cousin. Sure, he wasn’t happy that Milo had been turned into Mr. Scars, and he definitely wasn’t happy that he’d been lied to about the true cause of Milo’s death, but none of that whole mess was actually Milo’s fault. He shouldn’t punish him for something he had no control over.

Milo seemed to relax, as well, which was good. But after a while he sighed and stared into his mug for a second before looking up and seeking eye contact.

“I guess I should probably cut to the chase, huh?”

“I guess.” Noah shrugged, trying to make it clear he didn’t want to rush him. That it was okay for him to linger and just hang out. “I suppose you’ll be shipping out the moment we’re done talking about this?”

“I dunno.” Milo admitted. “I’ve missed you. Like… A lot.” He tinged somewhat red, fidgeting, “I want to hang out, but I also want to get Boss out of my head in any way I can because I’m getting really _really_ tired of this whole ‘being controlled’ business.”

“That’s fair.” Noah granted. “Look, I know you’re here because I can help with that, so I’ll hop to it if that’s what you want, but I’m down for just sitting here a little while longer if you want to.”

“... I’m down for that.” Milo said quietly after a moment of consideration. “At least until we finish our coffee.”

Noah shot him a smile, purposely taking a very small drink of his coffee in response. Milo laughed, and _shit_ if Noah hadn’t missed that.

It had been a very long time since he’d heard Milo laugh, and almost as long since he’d been able to make anyone except Habit and Alex chuckle a little. He didn’t have much of a tendency for being funny, admittedly. Making people laugh was a rare thing and he enjoyed each opportunity.

They were quiet again as they finished off their coffee, enjoying a rather companionable silence. Noah was actually somewhat reluctant to end it. Ending it meant moving on to serious stuff. He didn’t want to be serious. He just wanted to enjoy being around his cousin.

He placated that whiny part of him by reminding himself that if he went through with this, he’d be able to enjoy being around his cousin further in the future.

He took a breath and sat his mug down, and Milo did the same. They hesitantly made eye contact, and Noah couldn’t help sighing deeply.

“Okay. Time to stop fucking around, then, I guess.” He said.

Milo nodded almost hesitantly, sort of twiddling his thumbs. “I guess so, yeah.”

“I guess I… Guess I should start by explaining what I’m doing to keep him away. But that could be dangerous if he has any measure of control over you right now.” Noah considered it, “Although I don’t doubt he already knows how I’m keeping him at bay.”

Milo slowly nodded. “I mean… Is there anything specific I have to do? That’s all I wanna know.”

“Technically, yes, but given we’re in a different situation than the one I was in, I don’t think _you_ have to do it. I could do it for you and explain after it’s done…”

“That would work for me,” Milo encouraged, “I could get behind that. As long as it gets him out of my head I don’t really care.”

“Okay.” Noah agreed, looking around for something he could feasibly do it with. Lord knew he couldn’t give Milo a tattoo - he’d have to wake up Habit for that, which wasn’t something he was particularly interested in doing.

… He could always just carve it into his skin or something. That could definitely work.

“What are you looking for?”

“Something to do it with.” Noah replied, “I can’t give it to you the same way I got it, since that would require waking Habit up and I don’t think he’d be thrilled to see another member of the Collective immediately upon waking.”

Milo tilted his head somewhat.

Noah just shrugged as he spotted the paring knife sitting on the counter next to the sink, still there from the recent kill, already clean but not put away. He swallowed and stood up.

“Are you gonna stab me?” Milo seemed somewhere between concerned and amused.

“I mean… Kinda?” Noah shrugged, turning back to him once he had the knife. “I’m gonna carve something into you so…”

“Oh, shit, really?” His eyes widened.

“Yeah.”

“So it’s a symbol of some kind, then.” Milo guessed.

Noah nodded.

“Couldn’t you just doodle it on me first and then tell me about it while you’re carving? Would that work? I’d kind of like to know what I’m submitting myself to, here.”

Noah wasn’t exactly surprised that Milo was okay with him carving something into his body. He was _Mr. Scars,_ after all. He was probably used to that sort of thing. Probably did similar things to himself on a regular basis, although maybe not as severe as what Noah was going to have to do.

He considered the question, though, then slowly nodded. “Yeah, that should work.”

He sat the knife down on the table and summoned himself a pen. “Give me your hand.”

Milo offered it without hesitation.

Noah doodled the Rune.

Milo examined it for a moment before recognition lit up in his eyes. “The Rune of Severance.”

“Yep.” Noah didn’t question how Milo knew what it was, just waiting around to continue with what he needed to do.

“I don’t know why I didn’t ever think of using it.” Milo admitted softly, “The Observer uses it sometimes, but not for protection or anything. He uses them to see through. He can already see pretty much anywhere, but if he draws a Rune it’s easier for him to focus in on a spot.”

“You were probably only thinking about what he uses it for.” Noah shrugged, “It makes it hard to consider using it for something else when you’ve only seen it used for one thing.”

“Fair enough.” Milo sighed, standing and looking at him. “Where do you want to carve it?”

“Where do you want me to carve it?” Noah countered, “I have no preference for an area, myself, so…”

Milo considered it. “Between my shoulder blades,” He finally decided, “Where it’s harder to see.”

Noah agreed wordlessly and Milo turned his chair around, as if he’d had the same idea Noah had. He sat back down at the table, arms crossed over the back and the surface of the table. He paused, picking at his arms, then took his shirt off and laid it on the table under his arms. Noah dragged his own chair around to his side of the table and snagged the knife, sitting down behind his cousin.

“You want me to warn you, or…?”

“No, go for it, I’ll be fine.” Milo told him, “Although you’ll probably have to do this several times for it to scar deep enough to stay.”

“Got it.”

He pressed the sharp steel to the center of Milo’s back, watching the muscles tense and flutter, then pressed harder. He had to admit to a mild feeling of fascination as the knife broke through skin and brought blood blooming to the surface. He took a breath, set his intentions as firmly as he could, and began to carve, slow and careful. Milo hissed in mild discomfort, but didn’t protest in any capacity, merely allowing him to go about it.

Once he completed the carving for the first time, Milo let out a slow breath as he healed.

“It’ll only stay for about a day if you only do it once,” He informed him. “It’ll take several for it to be permanent.”

“How many is several?” Noah asked, already moving the blade back to his initial starting point. Now that he’d done it the first time, he shouldn’t need to focus so hard on what he wanted it to do.

“... Ten? At least in my experience. Ten times with other things has left some pretty permanent scars so far.”

Noah hummed as he carved the Rune a second time. It started as a noncommittal noise, then morphed into genuine humming. Whatever tune it was, he couldn’t quite put a name to it, but he recognized it. It was frustratingly familiar, the name and actual words just out of his reach. All he could recall was the tune.

“So,” Milo finally said, once Noah had started carving for the third time, “Out of curiosity… Do you know what the others are planning in order to get Habit?”

“Yeah, actually.” Noah said, frowning, “Did… Did you have something to do with me finding out?”

“Yeah.” Milo admitted, “I thought it only fair to warn you. I don’t think the others know yet, and if this works they won’t find out until it’s too late.”

“You’re one sneaky little bastard.” Noah praised.

Milo just chuckled.

“Speaking of that plan, though,” Noah began after a long moment, watching the carving heal yet again, looking a little more raw than before even once it was done, “I’ve already more or less figured out that helping Habit ascend before the Collective can do it is my best bet…”

“But you don’t know exactly how to do the ritual.” Milo deduced.

“Exactly.”

“I do. I can tell you - it’s not like I have anything better to be doing while you carve me up.”

Noah snorted at the word choice, “If you feel like it.”

“I do, actually.” Milo snorted, himself, and after taking a moment to, presumably, gather himself, he began to explain.

Noah listened attentively, commiting it all to memory, and by the time the explanation was finished, he’d carved the Rune of Severance a grand total of twenty-seven times into Milo’s back. Talk about permanent. The already mostly-healed scars were still angry red and rather swollen looking, and clearly deeper than most of the other scars marking his back.

Noah stood to put the knife in the sink, rinsing his hands off and wetting a rag in the process. Wringing it out, he returned to Milo, who didn’t ask what he was doing or complain when he began to wipe the blood away from his back.

“You know,” Noah said as he rinsed the rag a moment later, “I only really have one other question.”

“Shoot.”

“If Habit and I were to… Say… Vacate the house for a while… Would Alex be safe? Like, would any of you go after him?”

“He’d be safe from us,” Milo confirmed. “We have no interest in him. Only the Rake has any interest in him.”

“The Rake?” Noah queried, incredulous.

“A ridiculous name, I know.” Milo sighed, “But it’s the thing that’s been stalking him. His dream demon. The one you so gregariously flambéed?”

Noah made a noise of understanding as he sat back down at the table. “That’s good.” He admitted. “I don’t suppose you have a timeline for when they’re wanting to god-tier Habit?”

Milo snorted. “Closer to the time you two initially ran away, I believe. So a couple of months from now.” He reached over the table to pat his arm, “You’ve got time, buddy.”

“Maybe so,” He snickered, “But the sooner the better, right? Not to mention, we can make sure Lyra’s safe much easier if we have Habit and I protecting her before the Collective even considers who to send to capture her.”

“Good point.”

Companionable silence.

Finally, Milo sighed. “I’d better get going. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be around when your housemates wake up.”

“Probably for the best. I’ll talk to them about you later - now that we’ve got the Administrator out of your head it’ll be safe for you to drop by from time to time.”

Milo smiled as he pulled his shirt on. “Honestly? I’d like that. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”


	40. Breaking the Habits of Man

A couple of hours later, when Habit at last crawled out of bed, Noah had, more or less, figured out what he would have to say to get Habit to agree to ‘ascending’.

He’d known from the get-go that addressing Lyra being in danger was going to be the deciding factor no matter what else he said, but there was still the matter of wording it correctly and figuring out any additional stuff he should throw in. He knew he couldn’t tell Habit exactly what was going to happen - that went against the ritual entirely. The subject could be aware they would face torture to become a god, but they couldn’t be told the exact workings of the ritual. They had to find out for themselves.

There were no real guidelines for how to make someone ascend past some basic steps. He had to feed Habit at some point, had to knock him out at another, and had to disembowel him and slit his throat to end it. Past that? He had a carte blanche, and he wouldn’t admit to it out loud but that very thought made him just a little bit giddy… And he wasn’t even sure if it was him or Firebrand who felt that way. It could have easily been both of them.

“Morning,” Habit greeted lazily as he trudged straight to the fridge.

Noah returned the greeting, waiting quietly at the table for Habit to gather whatever he was going to eat for breakfast. When Habit sat down he gave him a smile, but didn’t broach the subject just yet. Let him eat and wake up a little more first.

“So,” He said when Habit had shovelled the last of his breakfast into his mouth something like five minutes later, “There’s something important we need to talk about.”

Habit swallowed hard, clearly chewing at the inside of his bottom lip. “Okay? What is it?”

Noah chose to ignore the obvious apprehension on Habit’s part to this discussion, because, hey, he knew  _ he’d _ be nervous if Habit just threw a phrase like that at him out of nowhere. “You remember how I keep mentioning the Collective wanting to make you a god?”

Habit visibly relaxed, “Yeah, what about it?”

“I’ve been thinking, and… Well. The easiest way to get you out of that is for me to do it instead of them.” Noah said carefully, watching Habit’s face for signs he needed to drop the conversation for now. “I know how to do it and I have a general idea of when  _ they’re _ planning to do it, but it’s up to you when it gets done, really.”

Habit seemed to consider that, admittedly looking a little uneasy at the knowledge but not objecting outright. “So I don’t have the choice of staying human?”

“Not if you wanna keep living.”

He winced. “Gotcha.”

Noah sighed. “Additionally, I got wind of their plans against their knowledge, and… Well. You’re not going to like what they have planned.”

He’d never seen Habit that pale before.

“What are they planning?”

“A couple months from now they’re gonna grab Lyra and use her as bait to get you to come to them.” At the look of horror and outrage on Habit’s face, and the obvious intent he had to respond, Noah held up a hand, “That’s not it.” Habit settled a bit. “If you’re not ‘timely’ about your arrival, they’re going to torture her. For every five minutes after they’re sure their little ransom note has arrived they’ll pick a part of her body and injure it.” Was it just Noah, or did Habit look a little green now? “And if you don’t show up within two hours they’ll disembowel her.”

“Those sick mother _ fuckers!” _ Habit didn’t even make an attempt to hold in the outburst. “What the  _ fuck?” _

“They know she’s the only way they can get to you. Or at least the best way.” Noah sighed, shrugging somewhat. “That’s why I brought this up. If I can turn you into a god before then, we can protect her and thwart their plans in the process.”

Habit only settled a little bit, expression stormy and jaw clenched. To his credit, he appeared to be considering that very deeply. He leaned back in his chair and glared up at the ceiling for a long moment.

After what felt a lot like an eternity, he huffed and returned his gaze to Noah. “How soon would you be willing to do this?”

“Considering I don’t have a life outside cuddling you and talking to Alex, I’d have to say as soon as you want it done.” Noah shrugged.

“And if I were to decide I want it done today?” There was an edge to his voice.

“You’re sure you don’t want to think about it a little longer?”

“Noah.”

He put his hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t do it today, Habit, I’m just asking to make sure you actually  _ want _ this.”

“That’s the thing,” Habit sunk back into his seat once more, having sat forward after Noah’s question, “I  _ don’t _ want this. I’d really prefer to stay human because I’m not about getting tortured - still dunno how you put up with that shit from me -, but I don’t really have much of a  _ choice, _ do I?”

“Of course you do.” Noah assured him, “Letting me do this is yours and Lyra’s best bet, certainly, but I’m a god, myself, Habit. I could protect you and Lyra both if needed.” He tried to soothe him, and for the most part what he said was true. “It wouldn’t be easy at all, but I could do it with very few problems.” Sigh, “In the long run, though, keeping you alive would be difficult enough to warrant my earlier statement, especially if those fuckers decide they wanna fight about it.”

Habit gnawed at his bottom lip, half-anxious, half-thoughtful. He didn’t seem like he planned on saying anything any time soon, so Noah simply let himself begin to plan the sorts of things he’d do to Habit if he agreed. And what he’d reward him with afterwards.

Obviously he had plans to cut him up - what else would he, reasonably, have planned? His actual planning went more toward where he would cut and with what, he’d admit, along with how deep and how long.

First, he thought, he’d get one of their smaller knives and repeat Habit’s first session with him - one medium length cut just deep enough to allow him to touch and play with his organs. He’d even repay the ripping of the edges that Habit had so  _ lovingly _ perpetrated. And then he’d pick another spot and do more or less the same thing. Over and over. He needed to break Habit’s body, eventually, and preferably before he ended the ritual.

Second, he’d get a bigger knife, maybe a little duller, and after healing Habit’s injuries he’d start the process again with bigger cuts.

For third, he figured he ought to use his powers a little and, maybe, instead of  _ healing _ Habit from the last round, he’d cauterize the wounds. He could almost feel himself beginning to smile, which unnerved him just a little. He clamped his jaw in order to avoid it.

“Okay,” Habit finally said, distracting Noah from his planning before it could go any further.

Probably for the best.

“Okay?”

“You’ve convinced me it’s my best bet.” Habit shrugged. “I still don’t particularly  _ want _ to do it, but…”

Noah nodded, then, tonguing at his fangs, decided he  _ would _ reward Habit for going through with this. “Tell ya what,” He said, “Once this is done, you can test your powers on me.” Habit seemed to perk a bit at that, so he continued,  _ “And _ I’ll let you do whatever you want to me after that - sex, torture, whatever.”

Habit  _ definitely _ perked up at that, which made Noah’s lips twitch.

“I’m all over that and you know it,” Habit told him. “So are we gonna…?”

“Yeah.”

“Basement?” Habit stood.

“It’s the best place for it,” Noah confirmed, standing as well.

“What do we tell Alex?”

“That he should watch Netflix.” A pause, “Loudly. For the next several hours.”

Habit nodded a bit, took a breath, and, apparently before he could think about it too much, went for the basement door. Noah followed behind, making sure he went down, then peeked in to the living room.

He hadn’t heard Alex get up, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was still in bed. And, true to what Noah was expecting, he was already in his chair, typing away on his laptop.

“Hey,” He called, “You might wanna turn on something loud.”

Alex appeared a little startled by the suggestion, but set his laptop aside to grab the remote anyway. “How long do I need to do that for, exactly?” He sounded… Just a little more exasperated than he looked.

“Probably until I come back up here.” Noah informed him.

Alex hummed in a strangely detached and noncommittal way, and if Noah had more time he would have investigated that response a little more closely. Instead he just headed down into the basement after Habit and closed the door firmly. Habit had already turned on the floodlight and was shifting around uncomfortably near the center of the basement. Some small part of Noah felt bad for this. The rest of him didn’t, unsurprisingly, and saw this as a good opportunity to vent his frustrations - after all, the chances of Habit breaking up with him for going a little overboard during this were much lower than the chances of Habit breaking up with him for doing any of the things he sometimes  _ wanted _ to do to him.

Firebrand took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders as he descended into the basement proper. Habit turned to look at him, and he suddenly seemed… Very small. Very breakable. Not at all the force of nature Firebrand knew him as. He supposed he was seeing Habit as a human for the very first time, right now, or at least seeing him as a human for the first time since Firebrand himself had become something more than a human. In this light, in this lens, Habit was  _ nothing. _ He was just a weak, young pup who was too confident for his own good and needed to be in control.

Out of control, he was a drastically different person, and Firebrand had to admit that he  _ loved _ this clearly submissive side of the human.

He approached at a moderate pace, taking some pride in the fact that Habit seemed to shrink in on himself the closer he got. He was visibly biting down on the inside of his lip, arms crossed over his stomach in an obvious (but pointless) attempt to shield it and hide the fact that he was shaking. Firebrand could see that his knuckles were white where he had his hands clenched in the fabric of his shirt.

Once he reached him, he, for the first time in a long time, paused to consider the difference in their heights. Habit wasn’t  _ horribly _ shorter than him, but he was definitely at a disadvantage when it came to height. He had to tilt his face upwards in order to make comfortable eye contact with Firebrand.

As if becoming aware of that, himself, Habit shrunk in on himself further.

“Sure you’re ready?” Firebrand inquired.

Habit only nodded.

Firebrand reached out for him, then. He cupped Habit’s cheek and tilted his head up further. Habit allowed it, swallowing hard but not objecting at all. And then Firebrand brought their lips together, an active attempt to soothe his boyfriend a little bit. As fun as it was to see him so submissive and meek, he didn’t want him to be afraid. He cared about him, even as Firebrand. He cared about his well-being and his feelings.

Habit, surprisingly, didn’t make any attempts at all to control the kiss. He simply allowed Firebrand to keep control, following his lead but, thankfully, slowly relaxed. It wasn’t immediate or a complete relaxation by any means, but his arms gradually dropped from their crossed position and the shaking he’d tried to hide ceased. And then, almost hesitantly, his hands came to rest on Firebrand’s abdomen, fingers knotting in his shirt.

When Firebrand eventually pulled back, he took a moment to admire his boyfriend before settling his hands on his shoulders and gently pushing him. Habit took the hint and dropped to his knees, although he didn’t seem to be wild about the idea.

“Stay right here,” Firebrand said, kneeling to be level with him, “Try to relax. I still have to figure out what to do to you.”

Habit nodded and returned to chewing on the inside of his lip, eyes dropping to the ground. Firebrand didn’t question it, kissing his forehead and then standing, pacing a little as he tried to flesh out his plan completely. He had the first three or so steps mapped out already. He just had to fill in the blanks between them and the eventual closing of the ritual.

Plan finally in place several minutes later, he turned back to Habit. He was unsurprised to find him still in the same spot, though trembling a bit. He chose not to comment on it as he came to kneel in front of him again, lifting his chin with a forefinger.

The thing that  _ actually _ surprised him was that, as he forced Habit to meet his eyes, Habit was rapidly blinking away tears. He forced down the question about it he wanted to ask. He wouldn’t draw attention to it if he didn’t have to - Habit hated crying. He knew that.

“I’m gonna briefly take away your ability to move, okay?” He warned.

It wasn’t necessary for him to do, of course, and it wasn’t technically a part of the ritual, so he could get away with warning him. And then he did, watching and feeling Habit’s breath hitch before it began to come a little heavier as the inability to move set in fully. He didn’t object, though. He just swallowed and, after a second, forced himself to breathe slow and deep.

“You good?”

A nod.

“How are you feeling about this?” He asked, still watching his face very carefully.

“Truthfully?” Came Habit’s somewhat strained response.

“Preferably.” Firebrand confirmed.

Traitorous tears, much like the ones he’d just blinked away, welled up in Habit’s amethyst eyes. There was a moment of further hesitation as he tried to blink back the tears a second time, and then, voice uncharacteristically soft and weak, “... I’m fucking terrified.”

He continued trying to blink the tears away and Firebrand couldn’t help letting out a soft, gentle shush. “That’s okay.” He told him quietly, “In fact, I’d be worried if you weren’t afraid of what I’m going to do to you, baby.”

Habit seemed only mildly comforted by that, still trying to rid himself of the proof of his fear, unable to move to get what comfort he could if he could just lean his head into Firebrand’s warm hand. Firebrand responded to the obvious desire for said comfort by carding his free hand through Habit’s hair soothingly, kissing his forehead again. Habit swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut, taking a slow breath through his nose.

Once Habit had relaxed a bit again, Firebrand moved his hands to the hem of Habit’s shirt and tugged. A quiet, “Arms up,” caused Habit’s arms to lift above his head without his direct intervention.

The way his eyes snapped open, somewhat alarmed, almost made Firebrand laugh.

He suppressed it as he removed his shirt. “Just trust me,”

“Okay.” Habit’s voice still had that strained quality to it, but he didn’t sound quite as meek.

A somewhat abortive and dismissive wave of his hand summoned something for Habit to lay back against during the next step along with the tools he was going to need.

“Lay back,” He ordered.

Habit’s body obeyed him immediately, to Habit’s clear dismay. Firebrand imagined that being able to move, but not of his own volition, was likely scarier than anything else he planned to put Habit through within the next couple days. He knew the feeling of not being able to move his body quite intimately. He could only imagine being nothing but a passenger in his body as it moved on its own, unable to make it bend to his will no matter how badly he wanted it to.

Firebrand settled on Habit’s now-extended legs, knees on either side of his hips as he leaned over him. He moved to give him one last kiss before the ritual began, and then he was grabbing one of the smaller knives he’d summoned.

The cut only made Habit’s face pinch for a second, his discomfort clear. But that was all it was - discomfort. Firebrand reminded himself, looking at Habit’s arms, that the guy used to cut himself, apparently on a semi-regular basis, and that that was  _ probably _ why it didn’t bother him more.

He licked his lips and sat the knife down.

Pulled at the edges of the wound to rip it open further.

Habit made a choked off sound that likely would have been a scream if he’d have allowed it to leave him unhindered. Firebrand didn’t even stop to comfort him, just tore it open a little further. Something like satisfaction bloomed in his chest. He ignored it in favor of reclaiming the knife and picking a new spot to victimize.

He repeated the steps he’d already taken. Sympathy stomped out the satisfaction when, this time, tearing at the wound made Habit whimper and squeeze his eyes shut. But again he ignored the emotional response and continued on his merry way, again repeating the steps in a different place.

Habit choked back a sob.

Another repetition.

Habit choked back another sob, this one almost leaving him fully before he could cut it off.

Another repetition. And another. And another. And another.

And another.

He ran out of abdomen to torture. He healed his victim up before allowing himself to look up to his face again at last.

Habit’s eyes were still squeezed tightly closed, lips pressed together as tightly as he could manage to get them. Tear tracks ran down the sides of his face. And now that Firebrand was paying attention… His breath was hitching on almost every inhale, a clear giveaway to the way Habit’s body  _ wanted _ him to be crying outright, but he and his pride refused to give in and allow that.

He reached up to pet Habit’s hair again, crooning softly.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” He purred out, “I’m so proud of you. But you can cry if you need to, there’s no shame in crying when you’re being tortured.”

Habit’s next exhale sounded like an abortive laugh. Firebrand gave a soft chuckle in reply.

“Need a break?”

Habit huffed out a soft, “No.”

“If you say so.” Firebrand shrugged, leaning back up and claiming a bigger knife.

Habit didn’t so much as peek his eyes open to look at him.

Firebrand didn’t comment on it. He just set to work on the breaking of Habit’s body. He went more slowly with this round, taking his time slicing into Habit’s stomach and tearing at the edges, drawing it out because the more it hurt the faster Habit’s body would break. And then he leisurely went about the process of burning the wounds closed, watching in fascination as the blood boiled away from the edges and the skin turned red and flaky.

By the time he was done, Habit was crying outright, although not loudly or hysterically. His chest was heaving here and there, shaking with the exhaled sobs. Tears streamed down the sides of his face, cheeks ruddy and lip bitten through in more than one place.

Firebrand crooned softly, wiping away the tears on his boyfriend’s face, smearing the saltwater and the blood on his hand across the already-red skin. He used his other hand to comb through Habit’s hair. Habit’s only response was an attempt at a deep breath.

“Want that break now?” Firebrand queried, and if there was an amused note to his voice he ignored it.

And, apparently, so did Habit, who nodded as he tried again to take a deep breath.

“You got it, baby.” He purred out, “I’ll be back later, okay? Try to get some rest.”

Habit’s response to that was a snort and a laugh of, “Try being the key word.”

Proof enough, Firebrand supposed, that this was still his Habit. That just because he’d broken enough to cry (likely not a conscious choice) didn’t mean he’d broken completely already. He was still a fairly tough nut to crack even when he’d already spent several hours, by Firebrand’s estimate, having his stomach cut and torn open, then healed, then sliced and ripped open again, then burned to close the gaping, bleeding wounds left behind by that.  _ God, _ he loved this guy. If breaking him mentally was a necessary part of the ritual Firebrand would be pretty much fucked, and that was deeply admirable. Habit was scarily resilient.

“Exactly,” Was what he said out loud, instead of any of that dribble he’d been thinking. With a kiss to his forehead he stood, “But really - try to rest. The next part is even worse.”

“Joy,” Habit intoned sarcastically.

Firebrand laughed as he ascended the stairs.

Predictably, Alex was rather unnerved by his blood-soaked appearance when he caught sight of him. Firebrand could see the emotions as they occurred in his face - surprise, then minor disgust, then worry. And he could see that Alex wanted to speak, but didn’t seem sure what to say.

“Don’t worry too much,” Firebrand dismissed, “I’m just going through the motions of making Habit a god.”

Judging by the way he paled, that knowledge didn’t comfort Alex in the slightest. But he didn’t comment on it, instead choosing to stare a second longer, then turn back to the TV and act like he hadn’t seen Firebrand at all.

Probably for the best.

Firebrand poofed himself into a different outfit, willed the blood away, and promptly took a seat at the couch. Habit would need a while (potentially the entire night) to recover from that, admittedly. He was already so,  _ so _ close to his body breaking. But Firebrand didn’t want to do any permanent damage to Habit’s mind, so he needed to give him this break.

… Although Habit likely would have appreciated it if Firebrand had stayed down there with him.

Oh well.

* * *

Habit now, for sure, had no fucking clue at all how Noah dealt with his shit. Sure, the actual  _ cutting _ hadn’t been that bad, even over bones, but the  _ tearing. _

Good fucking  _ God. _

And don’t even get him started on the burning. Cauterizing. Whatever it was.

Chest heaving slightly, he managed to force his body to react at last, reaching up with a trembling hand to trace one of the raw burn scars Firebrand had left. Touching it stung something awful, but he pressed on. Opening his eyes for the first time since Firebrand had started cutting into him, he peered down at the burns.

His abdomen was a burnt and bloody mess, bright red in most places, an irritated pink in others. He could see where Firebrand had, more or less, shredded his stomach the first time around before healing him, but only barely. The scars of that ordeal were already fading, and hidden by the bigger mess that had come afterwards regardless. He took as deep a breath as he possibly could, blowing it out slowly as he tried to sit up.

Several minutes and a lot of pausing to curse later, he had managed to place himself upright and get just a little more comfortable on whatever Noah - no, Firebrand - had conjured up for him to lean on. He didn’t have the energy (or the strength, terrifyingly enough) to turn around and check to see what it was. He’d already exhausted himself just sitting up and adjusting himself. It was awful to feel this weak. He hadn’t felt this weak in…

Ever, he didn’t think.

To his knowledge, he’d never once in his life felt this weak.  _ Ever. _

It sucked. It completely sucked and he hated it.

But he had to deal with it. This had to be done. He knew that, and he could deal with that, he just… A growl escaped him. He didn’t want to have to do this to himself. He didn’t want to let Firebrand do this to him. He  _ trusted _ Firebrand, although not nearly as much as he trusted regular ol’ Noah, and he didn’t want (or need) the possible hatred he could end up developing for the godly extension of his boyfriend. He already didn’t  _ like _ ‘Brandy, after all.

With another huff, he settled against the thing behind him, closed his eyes, and did his best to fall asleep. Much as he didn’t want to follow Firebrand’s advice, he wasn’t stupid. He knew he needed this break and he knew he needed to sleep some of this off. It was just a matter of  _ actually _ sleeping it off.

* * *

When Firebrand returned in the morning, Habit thought he was prepared. He thought he knew what to expect.

He was mistaken.

Instead of immediately starting in on him, Firebrand offered him breakfast. It only took a moment’s hesitation for his body to chime in with an annoyed, “You haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, take the fucking food” and even less time for him to push himself up so he could comply. Firebrand kept watch over him while he ate, but not overbearingly. He was just a presence until Habit finished, not touching or really even interacting with him, and even though his eyes never once left Habit there was little intensity in his gaze.

The moment he was done and hesitantly sat the plate aside, Firebrand switched over from being a passive presence. He almost immediately started moving.

Habit didn’t even have time to question it before he felt a solid thump on the side of his head and then everything went black.

He woke again at a later point, body feeling strangely detached from the sensations it was experiencing. He was well aware that he was crying again almost immediately upon waking, and that Firebrand was still working on breaking his body for the ritual. Or at least he’d assume that Firebrand was trying to break him for the ritual - because what else would he be breaking him for? Would he really still be doing it if it wasn’t necessary?

… Habit found he didn’t want to know the answer to that.

And then he felt the knife in Firebrand’s hand plunging into the skin just below his last set of ribs. He let out a strained sound, because he’d  _ definitely _ felt that one, no barrier between the sensation and him actually processing it.  _ Fuck. _ And then the slicing of the blade through his abdomen, down in a single, fluid, amazingly straight line.

He’d admit to… Not really spacing out, but kind of spacing out, as Firebrand started in on removing his organs at least partially from his body. He didn’t stay in the situation, mentally, was all he was saying.

He only zoned back in when he noticed Firebrand leaning over him, gazing boredly down at him.

And no sooner than he’d zoned back in did Firebrand chuckle, a smile crossing his features. “There you are. I was wondering when I’d get your attention.”

“... Here now.” Habit grumbled.

“Yes, I can see that.” Firebrand rolled his eyes, “It’s about time we wrap this up, don’t you think?”

Habit hesitated, but nodded, movements somewhat sluggish from blood loss. Firebrand smiled again, leaning closer and capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

It was nice. So nice that Habit almost didn’t notice the cold press of a knife to his throat before Firebrand was pulling away and slicing through his neck. But he did notice, and he felt a tremor of fear steal up the back of his neck, locking up his joints just in time for Firebrand to do exactly as he knew he would.

“Just rest, now,” Firebrand said as he stood, “This will be over soon.”

And then Habit more or less lost consciousness again.


	41. Resurrection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everybody! Welcome to the first day of the Trial and Error Anniversary Update.  
> What does the Anniversary Update entail, and why is it happening? I'm glad you asked.  
> As you may have noticed, Trial and Error's first birthday is tomorrow, the 29th of August. My original Anniversary Update plan was to just update on the anniversary and forget about it. However, as tomorrow is a Wednesday and I don't like breaking update schedules, I chose something slightly more extravagant. As such, Trial and Error will be receiving _three updates in a row._ One today, one tomorrow, and one on Thursday.  
>  I'm really excited, to be honest.

Noah was, admittedly, rather surprised to find Alex still in the living room when he emerged from the basement after Firebrand finished the ritual.

To his knowledge, Alex hadn’t so much as left his seat since the ritual started the day before. And, honestly? It didn’t look like he had any plans to move anytime soon, either. Given he’d been stuck with Firebrand for several hours, Noah guessed he couldn’t be surprised that Alex wasn’t eager to give him any openings by leaving himself vulnerable - in his chair he was by no means safe if Firebrand happened to turn on him, as Noah knew he feared he would, but if nothing else he could defend himself there and Firebrand couldn’t get him from behind.

Noah didn’t blame him for worrying about it, especially given he was fully aware that Firebrand had turned on Habit and left him to die in the basement, regardless of  _ why _ he’d done it.

Still. It concerned Noah somewhat that Alex had sat there that long, presumably without sleeping. That wasn’t good for him - if he started this sort of sleeping ‘schedule’ again he’d make himself sick. He’d spiral back to where he’d been before he arrived, minus the nightly attacks…

Wait.

Could that be why he was awake?

“Hey,” Noah began after changing into some less bloody clothes, “You doing okay?”

Alex glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, then, apparently recognizing he wasn’t Firebrand, turned to him completely. “Why do you ask?” He asked, looking slightly suspicious but overall seeming more relaxed than he had since Noah had told him to turn on Netflix.

“You didn’t sleep last night.” Noah shrugged, retaking his place on the couch, “I’m worried about you.” He looked him in the eyes, “It’s not tormenting you again, is it?”

Alex shot a glance down at his arms, covered as usual by his long sleeves. Then he laughed softly. Instead of answering out loud, he lifted his arms, rolled his sleeves up, and showed Noah his scarred, but thankfully not currently injured, forearms. “Nah,” He finally spoke, “It’s not bothering me. I was just working on something.”

There was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, and an obvious note of something left unsaid. Noah couldn’t help smiling slightly.

“What are you planning, kiddo?”

“Oh, nothing.” Alex waved his hand dismissively, but the grin crossing his face betrayed him. “Just figuring out how best to keep my deception of Jeff going without slipping up, talking to someone else who seems to be dealing with the same dream fucker… That sort of thing.”

“Oh?” Noah’s brows shot up, “You found someone else? How?”

“You’d be surprised how many abandoned threads there are talking about it,” Alex admitted, “I went looking and found one that was still active. Got to talking with the author of the main post, figured out he was genuine, and we’ve been talking about it ever since.” He shrugged, “From what I can tell he knows a couple others, too, and someone he knows is apparently on the Toothpick Man’s bad side.”

Pushing aside his amusement at Alex actually using one of Habit’s many nicknames for the Administrator for once, Noah considered that information. After a long moment, he managed to process it and figure out how to word his question. “Why, exactly, did you go looking?”

Alex stared at him a second, then sighed and let his shoulders sag, looking at his laptop. “It’s just… The folks who ended up here - Aiden and Emily - they proved to me that I’m not alone in this. I’m not the only one who deals with this. Or dealt with it. And that was comforting, for a while, but it made me think that… Well. I’d really like to be able to talk to another victim, get to know them and know they understand the struggle, without the looming fear that you and Habit will kill them.” He took a breath, “It’s just the worry of if that  _ thing _ will get them… And this guy, he’s… He’s survived this thing for several years. If it was gonna kill him then I’m willing to bet it would have done it already.”

“That was…” Noah said, “An enormous wall of text. But I getcha - it’s nice to feel like you’re not alone.”

“It is.” Alex agreed.

“Have you talked to any of his other friends?”

“Only one of ‘em. Her name’s Maya - she’s closer to your age, but awful sweet.” Alex answered, “Like, sweeter than Habit trying to suck up to someone.”

Noah couldn’t help snorting. “That’s pretty fuckin’ sweet.”

“I know, right? But from what I can tell she’s got some rough edges and she’s also not afraid to break someone’s nose.”

“Oh, goodie, my favorite type of woman.” Noah snorted.

“What?” Alex asked, lips quirking up, “The type who can kick your ass?”

“Exactly.” Noah gave another snort.

Alex snickered, and for whatever reason that made all of the tension melt from Noah’s body instantly. He let himself laugh along for a second, watching the way it made Alex light up. Looked like they were relying on each other pretty hard today - that was perfectly fair. Nothing wrong with that.

Their laughter died down quickly, and Noah nodded, mostly to himself. “It’s good that you’re finding people to connect with.” He asserted, “I’m glad you found at least one friend.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek while Alex nodded his agreement with quirked eyebrows. “Speaking of friends - how’s all them back home?”

“My Jersey friends?” Alex asked, pushing his eyebrows up after having dropped them.

“Yeah.”

Alex snorted, looked Noah right in the eyes, and said, “What fucking friends?”

Noah hissed through his teeth, “Didn’t you have a group you hung around, though?”

“Oh, sure,” Alex agreed easily, “I hung around them while I was there, and they liked me well enough, but they don’t give a shit I’m gone. Therefore they aren’t my friends.”

“How would you know?” Noah’s brow pinched.

“It’s easy to read Facebook posts, Noah.” Alex snorted once more, rolling his eyes. Then, as if to prove his point, he removed his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and scrolled for a second. “Week and a half after I ran away, one of my ‘best friends’ posted this.” He informed Noah, then began reading off the post, “‘Laughing my ass off, when’s the hype gonna die down? He’s just another runaway.’”

Noah winced.

Alex just quirked his brows at him, then dropped them, expression flat. “Month after I ran off, same guy.” He announced, “‘Getting real tired of Al’s big brother messagin’ me to ask if I know where he is. I don’t fucking know and I don’t fucking care.’”

Oh, dear God, that one made Noah want to crawl out of his own skin.

Alex just gave him that flat eyebrow quirk again. “One of the others around the same time; ‘So what if Al ran away? He’s a fucking teenager, we do that sometimes. You don’t have to turn it into a big missing person mess just because he won’t call you.’” He snorted, sounding genuinely amused, “At least there’s some logic to that one and it’s not just her not caring.”

“Okay, so maybe your friends are dickbags,” Noah relented, “Any recent posts?”

“Uhhhh,” Alex scrolled upwards, eyes scanning the feed in front of him. “Most recent one’s from a month ago,” He admitted, “And it’s the chick.”

“What does it say?”

“‘Okay, see,  _ now _ would be a good time to start turning this into a missing person case Jeff. You started too early and now nobody’s gonna want to look for him.’” Another snort, “That’s fair. She actually tagged Jeff, too.”

“So maybe she’s not as much of a dickbag as the others?” Noah suggested.

“She never was,” Alex shrugged, “She’s a huge bitch sometimes, but hanging around with the guys she had to be to get a word in edgewise. Just never picked up on the fact that I’d shut up to let her talk without being told to.”

Noah pressed his lips together to avoid laughing.

Alex did as well.

“What would she think of you now?” Noah wondered out loud.

“Probably nothing different than she used to think.” Alex shrugged again, “Except for the fact that I’m a lot more mouthy now I really haven’t changed much.”

“That’s true.” Noah accepted, “Although I haven’t really heard much of you being mouthy.”

That just made the younger laugh. “You never give me anything to work with.” He said, “Everything you tell me to do is within reason and it’s never anything that inconveniences me.”

“Fair.” Noah granted. “... You hungry?”

“Starving.” Alex sat his laptop aside immediately.

Noah laughed and stood, “Let’s see what we can scrounge up, eh?”

Alex stood as well, “Sure, Habit went shopping recently anyway.”

They headed into the kitchen together, Alex trailing along behind Noah slightly. Although Alex seemed to think Noah didn’t notice, Noah watched out of the corner of his eye as Alex’s greyish eyes caught on something near the front door and his breath seemed to, momentarily, catch in his throat. And then he was tearing his eyes from whatever he saw and Noah simply continued to watch him. Upon noticing Noah had seen whatever had just crossed his face, he directed his eyes to the ground and quietly moved past him, making it clear that whatever that was wasn’t on the table for comfortable discussion.

But it wasn’t off the table completely.

“So what was that?” Noah asked, probing gently, but making it obvious that he wouldn’t  _ make _ Alex answer him.

Alex’s shoulders tensed as he crouched to search through a cupboard. He was quiet, and Noah was prepared to drop the conversation so he wouldn’t ruin the tenuous peace between them.

Then his shoulders sagged and he blew out a slow breath, taking in an even slower one. “It’s not tormenting me like it used to,” Alex explained softly, with zero nervousness but a definite edge to his voice, “It doesn’t attack me. It doesn’t plague me with nightmares. But I keep seeing it everywhere.”

Noah accepted the answer with an acknowledging hum, and the way that Alex seemed to sag entirely with relief at the response… Noah was tempted to think that all of Alex’s tension had been a result of him not wanting to be judged. Not wanting Noah to think he was crazy.

Noah could understand that.

“You going to be able to sleep tonight?” Noah found himself asking.

Alex paused once more, this time glancing at him over his shoulder. He stared at him for a long moment, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Then, finally, he turned back to the cupboard and shrugged. “Dunno.”

Noah accepted that answer with nothing more than a hum as well. It was useless to inform Alex of the health risks of staying up so long since he already knew them quite intimately, and given that the boy didn’t seem to be tired, there was no point in telling him to go to bed. Noah knew very intimately the feeling of not being tired despite having been awake for a day or more - the only difference was that Noah wasn’t human anymore, and therefore not sleeping technically wouldn’t have any negative repercussions on him, while Alex was a growing young man and still  _ definitely _ human, so it was pretty clear that not sleeping wasn’t going to do him any favors.

“Do you want me to help out if you can’t?”

Alex shot him another glance as he straightened up with an armful of rather large cans and the top corner of a bag of chips prized between his teeth. He dropped it on the table between them, then carefully added the cans to the surface.

“What kind of help do you have in mind?” He asked as he leaned against the table, palms flat on the surface, “Because I’m really not wild about having anybody in my head to put me to sleep.”

“Well, we have Melatonin,” Noah began, “And I know several other ways to help you sleep without having to actively get into your head.”

“Oh?”

“I could always hypnotise you,” Noah teased, then, more seriously, “But just using some of my power and  _ telling _ you to go to sleep would work if you were okay with that.”

_ Noah shrugged again, soon finishing his food. “Humans are easy to manipulate when there’s a need for it.” _ Alex shook the memory away just a little more frantically than was strictly necessary, and he must have made one  _ hell _ of an uncomfortable face, because Noah immediately put his hands up in surrender, insisting that it was only a suggestion and Alex by no means had to submit himself to that if he didn’t want to. But that wasn’t the issue. Letting Noah basically mind-control him into sleeping wasn’t the issue. The issue was Alex being forcibly reminded of how fucking  _ terrifying _ Noah was when he was using those powers of his.

He didn’t  _ want _ to be afraid of Noah. He didn’t  _ want _ to worry that he was going to turn on him one day and hurt him.

He  _ knew _ Noah would never do anything like that to him. He  _ knew. _ But hearing Noah say something like that, and knowing what Noah had just allowed Firebrand to do to Habit, he couldn’t help being scared. Being paranoid. And he fucking  _ hated _ it.

He just stared at Noah for a moment, stomach rolling, and didn’t really listen to what he was saying before dropping his gaze and wishing, desperately, that he could just stop being afraid.

Suddenly very disinterested in food, Alex prodded at the cans, turning them around to gaze at their labels, and after awhile he realized Noah wasn’t talking anymore. He glanced up, saw Noah was watching him, appearing to be at least mildly perturbed, and quickly ducked his head, shoulders shifting up to protect his neck on reflex. He fidgeted with the cans a bit more. A coil of dread twisted around his stomach, crawling up into his chest. He heard Noah heave a sigh.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do to make you less afraid of me?” There was a note of annoyance in his voice, but it was faint. Something Alex likely wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t suddenly so hyperaware of Noah and his voice.

Alex shrugged helplessly, not trusting his voice as the dread coiled up higher, constricting around his lungs.

Another sigh.

Alex’s face was burning, from shame or from the inability to breathe, he wasn’t sure. It could have been both. It easily could have been both.

He’d never had dread legitimately steal his ability to breathe before, but it was happening now, and, dammit, he was starting to feel faint. He tried to draw in a breath, tried to force away the dread he knew had no genuine reason to be there, but he couldn’t. The dread just clawed into his throat and completely cut off his air. It actually hurt. His vision was going black at the edges. Spots danced in front of his eyes.

His legs went out from under him. He dropped onto his knees on the other side of the table from Noah, obscured from his view, and immediately he was struggling, hands coming up to dig his fingertips into his collarbones. He hoped, desperately, that the pain would open up his throat and lungs again. He couldn’t even make any noise and he  _ needed _ to-

He dug his fingers in harder, blunt nails biting into the flesh.

Just as he hoped, the coil of dread loosened. He drew in a shaking breath, head spinning from the sudden influx of Oxygen. But that was okay. He blew out the breath and forced himself to take another. And another.

With each breath, his vision cleared and the dread slowly uncoiled.

And then he became aware of Noah lingering at his side, hesitating. He looked like he wanted to help, but wasn’t sure how. Wasn’t sure if Alex wanted him to.

“That sucked,” Alex informed him, voice scratchier than it had any right to be.

He slowly loosened his grip on his collarbone, wincing.

“What happened?” Noah asked, at last dropping down next to him.

“I’m not sure.” Alex admitted, staring at his hands instead of meeting Noah’s concerned gaze. “I just… Started getting really nervous. It felt like something terrible was about to happen. And the next thing I know I can’t breathe and…” He shook himself physically. “It sucked. Even my panic attacks aren’t that bad.”

“Any idea what triggered it?”

“Thinking about how fucking terrifying you are and how much I don’t want to be scared of you may have.” Alex grumbled, “And even if that’s not what did it it certainly didn’t fuckin’ help.”

Noah visibly winced.

Alex forced out a huff, grabbing the edge of the table and hauling himself to his feet. He couldn’t think of anything that would actually help him get over this, so the only thing he could really do was deal with it and force himself through interactions like this.

“Only way I can think of to not be scared of you anymore,” Alex admitted as he examined the cans he’d grabbed again, “Is to let you do shit that scares me until it gets through my thick skull that you aren’t going to hurt me.”

“You sure you wanna do that?” Noah asked, and Alex could  _ hear _ the raised brow.

Alex shrugged.

Noah sighed. “What did you grab?” He asked instead.

Alex quietly showed him.

* * *

The next couple of days alone with Alex were just as awkward as the first, but it was, thankfully, starting to get a little less so. Alex seemed to be forcefully combatting his fear of Noah with a level of prejudice that Habit would have been incredibly proud of if he could see. Seeing Alex that vindictive, even if it was toward his own feelings, was something of a pleasant surprise for Noah. He loved this kid, he did, but he loved seeing him be more assertive even more. It was a nice change from the passive kid who’d stumbled in here several months before, and the even more passive kid he’d known before he and Habit had run off.

On more than one occasion, he’d approached Alex, and the kid had flinched away involuntarily only to scowl and very pointedly move himself right back where he’d been before.

Honestly, it warmed Noah’s heart a little bit.

That aside, each morning and evening he headed down into the basement to check on Habit. Once or twice while he was doing so, he saw Habit twitch or shift, and he noticed a strange purple hue tinting the air in the basement. Those things in their own right let him know that Habit had ascended and would soon wake. But there was also the fact that all of the wounds that Noah had left on him had now completely healed, and Habit’s skin was no longer washed-out by blood loss. He had his usual healthy skin tone once more.

Noah was unbelievably relieved to see it.

He’d been… Well. He’d been incredibly concerned that it hadn’t worked. That he’d just straight up killed his boyfriend.

Understandably that had been rather stressful.

* * *

On the third morning after Firebrand ended the ritual, Noah plodded down into the basement, and, pausing on the stairs, saw that Habit was, at long last, sitting up. He swallowed, hoping Habit hadn’t noticed him yet, and wondered if, maybe, he should go down as he was.

He decided against it. Firebrand would be better suited for whatever mess he was about to walk into.

He swallowed again, gut twisting anxiously, and then Firebrand’s influence eased the twisting as he continued the descent into the basement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably had enough of me talking up at the top, and I'm sorry to keep rambling but... Wow. Just wow. I honestly just want to thank all of you reading this for taking the time to do so, and I especially want to thank those who have stuck around for the whole first year of Trial and Error, and those who have left comments. It is _unbelievably_ motivating to know that people have enjoyed it and continue to enjoy it. It's also kind of astonishing to know that Trial and Error is still the longest thing in the archive for Everyman HYBRID and Tribe Twelve, at well over _double_ the wordcount of nearest competitors.  
>  So yeah.  
> Thank you all.  
> Thank you all so much.  
> Here's to hoping that Trial and Error will continue to live up to everyone's expectations toward it!


	42. Mankind's Bad HABIT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to day two of the Trial and Error Anniversary Update! Hope you enjoy reading today's chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it
> 
> (Also I'm aware it got put up pretty late and I apologize - I was busy writing the next chapter)

All things considered, it wasn’t incredibly surprising that when Habit at last opened his eyes, he wasn’t sure who or where he was. All he was immediately certain of was the fact that it was  _ too damn bright. _

After that  _ stunning _ revelation, it came to him that he was lying on something hard, propped up against something a little softer. Then he processed the ceiling above him and slowly came to the realization that he was in a basement. He attempted to move, and for reasons he couldn’t discern he braced for pain instantly. The pain never came. He didn’t know why he thought it would. He drew himself into a more upright position and gazed around. Definitely a basement. But why…?

And then it hit him like a bus.

He was down here in the aftermath of being made a god, and Noah was nowhere to be found. Had he been abandoned down here? Somehow he doubted it. More likely that Noah was just trying to make sure that Alex didn’t lose his shit up in the house by himself.

Firebrand on the other hand… Firebrand had probably left him to rot.

The irony of them being the same person wasn’t lost on Habit.

He managed to get to his feet, again bracing for pain and wanting to smack himself when there was none. What to do now?

He guessed he could head for the stairs, go back up into the house on his own… But no. He should probably wait. What if the ritual wasn’t completely over yet? What if there was something else that Firebrand needed to do to him? Best to just wait down there.

Milling around quietly, he wasn’t deaf to the door opening and closing, and footsteps stalling halfway down the steps. He turned his gaze, but not his head, and saw Noah staring at him, mildly troubled, and then there was the sudden pressure of Firebrand’s presence, and the rogue god trudged the rest of the way down the stairs. He wondered what that troubled expression had been about - was Noah afraid of him? No. No, surely not, that would be ridiculous. If either of them was afraid of the other, Habit would  _ have _ to admit that  _ he _ was afraid of  _ Firebrand. _

… And maybe there were other unflattering feelings fluttering around in his chest concerning the rogue god, too.

He turned to the man as he approached, meeting the characteristically blank expression on his face with an unimpressed one of his own. Firebrand’s eyes flickered with… Something.

“I suppose you’ll probably be wanting to shower,” Firebrand said, instead of actually greeting him, and some part of Habit was happy about that.

If he didn’t greet him like a regular person it was easier to pretend he wasn’t the same guy that Habit was in love with. If he acted like a closed off, emotionless  _ robot, _ Habit could differentiate him from Noah.

“Yeah.” He said, instead of any of that.

Firebrand nodded. “Come on, then.”

He followed him quietly as Firebrand returned up the stairs. They headed toward the second floor, and Firebrand was almost deathly silent. It took Habit a moment to notice that his own steps weren’t really making any noise either. That was… Somewhat troubling. But likely an effect of him having become a god, and therefore nothing that deserved his concern.

They both came to a stop in front of the door to the upstairs bathroom.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Firebrand said, and was that… Nervousness?

That was definitely nervousness. He was hiding it well, but Habit could almost  _ taste _ it, it was so strong. So he narrowed his eyes slightly, something inside of him growling, snarling at him to do something to make Firebrand even more afraid of him. Do something to make him panic and then  _ feed _ on it.

_ No. _ He told it firmly,  _ Not yet, at least. _

Noah  _ had  _ promised to let him do whatever he wanted, after all. And if feeding on fear and anxiety was something he needed to do now? Well, he’d take advantage of that promise in order to get it. He could easily get it from his victims afterwards, if he didn’t need to feed incredibly often. If he did, well… He was sure he could work it out with Noah to where he could get what he wanted.

Habit nodded instead of saying or doing anything that was immediately on his mind.

“I’ll be waiting in your room.”

Another nod.

They separated, and Habit paused in the doorway to watch Firebrand slink off down the hallway, certainly looking to be extremely nervous as he did so.

Habit forced himself into the bathroom to take his shower before he could be convinced to abandon that particular pursuit in favor of stalking after Firebrand and milking that anxiety for all it was worth. As he closed the door firmly behind him and flicked on the lights, a pile of clothes appeared on the counter for him, in true Firebrand style. He snorted somewhat and stripped out of his current pants, aware that his shirt was still in the basement. He’d have to grab it later.

Eyeing the bloodstains on the very top edges of his pants, he chewed at his lip. Eh, fuck it, it wasn’t like anyone but Noah would ever see the stains anyway.

He tossed them into the hamper, followed by whatever else he was currently wearing. And then he started the shower and stepped in, sighing with relief as the water ran red and the dried blood on his body all but melted off his skin under the spray. Sure, he was all about blood, but having it dried all over his abdomen was uncomfortable, especially considering it was likely several days old by this point.

Turning to face the shower head, he picked at the blood on his neck and scrubbed it until the water washed it away as well. His mind saw fit, as he was touching his neck, to call forth the memory of Firebrand’s blade biting into the skin there and mercilessly flaying it open. He all but snarled, wrenching his hand away and up into his hair so he could yank on it to ground himself.

It worked.

The memory washed away with the remainder of the blood. He sighed in relief and finally, finally went about actually cleaning himself. Self-maintenance and all that jazz.

When the water began to run cold he, for once, did not simply turn it higher and continue his shower. He allowed the cooling water to run over him for a moment, took a deep breath, and then turned off the tap. He wanted very much to continue his shower, but… That deep, snarling, demanding instinct was telling him to wrap it up, and he was having a harder and harder time ignoring it the longer he stood distantly being able to  _ feel _ Firebrand’s nervousness.

He didn’t know how he was supposed to go about feeding on it, exactly, but he had every intention to, if only to make that stupid instinct shut up.

He exited the shower, drying himself and then pulling on the clothes that Firebrand had picked without looking too closely at them. He recognized them to be his most comfortable pair of pants and one of his favorite shirts, however, and that gave him pause as he placed his hand on the doorknob.

Sure, he had some very unpleasant feelings about Firebrand fluttering around in his chest, but if the guy had gone out of his way to find the clothes he knew would help Habit’s mental health the most, if he’d given Habit a break when he needed it and tried to keep him calm throughout the ordeal, and now he was  _ scared _ of Habit… Or at least nervous around him… Was he really that bad? Did he really deserve any of those unpleasant feelings?

Habit wasn’t sure, and he didn’t like it.

He growled at himself and opened the door into his room instead of the hallway.

As promised, Firebrand was there waiting, milling about near the bed and only seeming more nervous now than he had been in the hallway. Habit felt his hunger rear up, begging him to feed off that anxiety at the same time it all but demanded it.

Unable to resist any longer, he stalked closer. And then stopped himself a foot or so away from Firebrand, forcing back the instinct, and reminding himself he had powers to test first. Powers that could potentially hurt Firebrand, which would scare him worse, Habit was sure, even if he didn’t admit to it. And then he could have an even better meal, right?

His instinct took the bait, backing off.

“I don’t suppose you have any idea what kinda powers I’m supposed to have.”

Firebrand, despite obviously knowing Habit was in the room, jumped a bit at the sound of his voice. “Mostly the same ones I have.” He answered, voice level and face unreadable in spite of the anxiety that was now rolling off him in waves. “Special focus on fear and pain, though, and no fire, thank God.”

“How much of a focus on fear?” Habit asked, because he was genuinely curious.

His instinct grumbled at him somewhat dejectedly, having picked up on the deception. He barely held back a laugh.

“Enough that you’ll be able to feel it very easily.” Firebrand said, “And that you’ll gain power from it somehow - although I’m not sure how that works.”

“I’d noticed that I can feel it pretty easily,” Habit said, “Considering you’re radiating anxiety like you wouldn’t believe and I have no other way of realizing you’re anxious.”

Firebrand cursed immediately, arms crossing over his chest and eyes flickering away from Habit, and if that wasn’t proof that he’d been hoping Habit hadn’t noticed, Habit didn’t know what it was. He rolled his eyes, though, closing the distance between them at last to poke his cheek. He wasn’t just going to let this go, but there was no reason to go about the conversation from a foot away while his boyfriend did everything he could to not make eye contact.

“Why are you nervous?” He asked, voice flatter than he’d intended, but Firebrand didn’t so much as flinch and his anxiety didn’t seem to strengthen at all, so clearly it had little effect.

“Too many reasons to list.” Firebrand grumbled in reply, still not looking at him.

“Top five, then.”

He received a rather scathing glare from the rogue god, and he gave one in return, feeling  _ instantly _ the way that Firebrand’s anxiety morphed into something more like dread. His expression didn’t waver in the slightest. He had to applaud his boyfriend’s dedication to appearing outwardly unaffected despite the fact that Habit could almost taste the anxiety kicking up a fuss in his chest. And with that appreciation in mind, he allowed the glare to drop off his face, officially moving into the other’s personal space.

Firebrand didn’t flinch away, but Habit felt the way his dread curled tighter even as it expanded and strengthened.

He cupped Firebrand’s cheek, forcing him, with a level of care Habit wasn’t even aware he was capable of, to look at him. When his own purple eyes met Firebrand’s golden ones, he moved his face closer carefully. Firebrand held very still and breathed out a very weak breath when Habit closed his eyes and simply ran his nose along his cheek instead of whatever he was afraid Habit might do.

“Top three.” Habit uttered.

Firebrand gave a soft huff, but some of the dread in his chest seemed to unknot at Habit’s lack of aggression. Yep. One of the things making Firebrand so scared was  _ definitely _ Habit, in some manner. He wouldn’t doubt it was a fear of retaliation for what Firebrand had done to him in the basement.

Or fear of what he’d do while testing his powers.

His instinct flared up again, growling lowly, and he very pointedly ignored it.

“Third is Noah still being a fucking mess over the ritual.” Firebrand muttered after a moment.

“And you aren’t?” Habit teased gently.

“That’s the fifth reason.” Firebrand replied dryly, and his eye roll was so obvious Habit could hear it.

He chuckled and nosed at his cheek again, eyes peeking open to watch what he could of Firebrand’s face. “Second reason?” He prompted.

Firebrand heaved a sigh, his dread tightening again, curling into something more like genuine fear. “The possibility of you hating us because of the ritual.” He admitted, voice softer than Habit likely would have been able to hear if his ear wasn’t right next to Firebrand’s mouth.

He considered that, considered the unpleasant feelings curling in his own chest, and all at once he unravelled them with the simple thought “ _ He was doing it to protect me.” _

“I don’t hate you. Either of you.” He assured him in the same low tones as before, shifting his face so he could place a kiss on his chin. “First?”

The dread-bordering-fear tightened into pure fear, although it had released for a half-second at Habit’s reassurance. And then Firebrand was taking a deceptively calm, deep breath, and saying, “You testing your powers on me.”

“I can’t reassure you on that one,” Habit admitted, “Because I don’t know what I’m capable of, but I’m not doing it out of spite.” He knew that had been a lie when he first woke up and realized what had happened, but now… Now it was true. “I’m doing it because you said I could and because I need at least a minor field test.”

Firebrand nodded, but the fear didn’t fade any, as Habit had somewhat feared it wouldn’t. On the other hand, though, this just meant that he could feed on the fear while it was there without having to scare Firebrand further.

“There’s one thing I want to test first and foremost,” He said softly, kissing at his chin again, “Since I don’t think I’ll be able to ignore it long enough to test anything else.”

“What is it?” At last a shred of tension had bled into Firebrand’s voice.

“Got this nagging  _ urge _ to feed on that fear you’re radiating,” He shrugged, “It’s getting extremely hard to deny.”

At the mention of it, his instinct reared up yet again, and it positively  _ purred _ when Habit made mention of actually feeding.

Firebrand relaxed only fractionally. “Okay.” He agreed, no further prompting necessary.

_ Alright, _ Habit relented,  _ Tell me how to feed and I’ll do it. _

There was a rushed explanation from the instinct, telling him that feeding was as simple as focusing in on the fear and drawing on it, most times. But as his instinct was apparently  _ starving _ he didn’t have quite the power for that at the moment and he’d need to get very close to Firebrand, as he already was, and find a good spot to bite down so that he could draw the fear (and the pain) from Firebrand’s very bloodstream.

It sounded gorey and beautiful that way, and something he’d do anyway, so he just nosed Firebrand’s chin to the side, gliding his lips down the exposed skin of his neck. He picked a spot with a careful peck of his lips. “This’ll hurt,” He warned softly, and Firebrand didn’t reply, so he just opened his mouth and bit down with fangs he’d noticed were a little bigger than they were before.

Firebrand tensed against him for half a second before relaxing, if only marginally, hands shooting up to grip Habit’s shirt. Habit’s own hands grabbed (with another startling display of care) Firebrand’s hips to hold him still, and then he was pulling his fangs from the wound he’d created and sucking at the torn skin to draw more blood out than what he could taste on his tongue. There was a new sort of tang to Firebrand’s blood, an extra spice Habit couldn’t place, but knew deep down was the taste of his fear.

It was just as addicting as Firebrand’s blood was otherwise.

When he’d drank enough that his instinct had descended into low, satisfied purring, he pulled back and lapped up the remaining blood, watching the wound heal as he at last stopped fucking with it. Firebrand heaved a shaky-sounding breath.

“Is it going to be like that every time you have to feed?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Habit licked at his lips, still chasing the flavor.

Firebrand made a noncommittal noise, and some of his fear seemed to drain out of him of its own volition. “Okay,” He said, taking a deep breath, “Let’s get this over with.”

“Sure thing, babes.”

And he grasped at one of the other powers he knew he now had before forcing into the real world.

* * *

Noah had returned something like half an hour ago, a full hour after Habit had gotten done with Firebrand and taking everything he’d been promised, and Habit would have been concerned if Firebrand hadn’t been being so clingy and lovey-dovey in the aftermath. Noah’s delay was, most probably, just Firebrand not wanting to give up his cuddles. Which made sense, because, honestly, Habit was a great cuddler and he knew it.

“Hey babe,” Habit greeted when Firebrand’s pressure at last faded, leaving only the comforting warmth of Noah.

Noah hummed contentedly and didn’t offer much else in terms of greetings, though he did nuzzle into Habit’s neck affectionately. Habit found himself grinning and skating his fingers up Noah’s uncovered back, over the bumps of his spine. Noah gave a tired, amused little chuckle and pressed closer to him to avoid the ticklish feeling. Relenting because he didn’t want to piss him off, Habit moved his hand back where it had been and resumed tracing lazy swirls into the heated skin.

“You feelin’ alright?” Habit checked in, just to be sure, because his instinct had curled in on itself, purring like a motor, after he’d finished with Firebrand, and he’d found himself lacking most of his usual violent urges, including the urge to dominate and at the very least  _ annoy _ Noah.

In the wake of that, he found himself in an oddly affectionate and, dare he say it,  _ concerned _ mood. He wasn’t actively concerned about anything, in particular, of course, but the feeling was there, the feeling that told him that if Noah wasn’t okay he’d start mother henning, and it made him want to laugh and tear his own throat out at the same time. He had thought he’d long since ditched that behavior once he’d started indulging the more violent urges that had presented themselves so long ago, but… No. Here it was, rearing its not-so-ugly head and making him  _ feel _ things.

Noah’s only answer was an affirmative hum and another affectionate nuzzle.

“Tired?” He checked.

Another affirmative and the feeling of Noah’s thin fingers copying his and tracing little swirls into the hip his hand sat on. Habit’s lips quirked up again at the feeling of Noah’s absent tracing.

“I’ll let ya sleep, then.” He told him, nuzzling into his hair and breathing in the smoky scent that was just undeniably  _ Noah. _

“How thoughtful,” Was mumbled against his throat, but the smile he could feel on Noah’s lips and the amused tone of his tired voice kept Habit from any possible annoyance or offense at the response.

“I’ll have you know I can be very considerate when I want to be,” Habit mumbled back.  _ Or when I don’t want to but I’ve sated my bloodlust so thoroughly I can’t even bring myself to annoy the piss out of you. _

“I know.” Noah assured him, still smiling.

And without so much as shifting, Habit soon felt him fall asleep. Nuzzling at his hair again, Habit took another deep breath and resigned himself to following his boyfriend to dreamland. Hopefully when he woke up he’d feel less…  _ Domestic. _

Unlikely, he knew, with the way his instincts were purring away, but… Well. It couldn’t hurt to hope for it.


	43. Machinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the third (and final) update of the Trial and Error Anniversary Update!  
> This chapter ends the most recent story arc, so it was pretty well-timed, in my book, especially since in the wake of applying for Uni (and a job) and doing some deep cleaning on my room, I'll be too busy to finish a chapter for next week.  
> Thanks so much for reading <3

Habit’s instincts, or his bloodlust, or whatever it was, were still complacently purring away somewhere in his chest when he woke the next morning, arms still wrapped around Noah, face still buried in his hair. He was a little annoyed at the continued lack of bloodlust or even an urge to bother, but overall… Overall he guessed he didn’t mind too much.

Taking in a lungful of Noah’s scent, he held it for a long moment before very slowly releasing it, and, fuck it, maybe actually loving on his boyfriend without any urges to annoy or hurt him wouldn’t be so bad. And thinking about it that way it _wasn’t_ bad.

He took in another deep lungful and blew it out just as slow, nuzzling into his boyfriend’s hair and contenting himself with the comforting feeling of him being so close. Sure, having his protective, affectionate attitude reemerge after so many years of burying it under never-quite-sated bloodlust and an unrelenting desire to irritate was annoying, but maybe, just maybe, he could deal with it and Noah wouldn’t mind the sudden change.

Evening out his slightly unsteady breathing, he began absently tracing little spirals into Noah’s lower back as he had the night before.

Noah responded with a low, sleepy hum. Habit couldn’t help smiling into Noah’s hair, and chose to continue his absent tracing as his instinct continued to purr contentedly. After several long, easy moments of his tracing, Noah shifted against him and nosed at his neck, a smile playing at his lips.

“Well, good morning.” Noah mumbled, voice rough with sleep but no less amused for it.

“Morning,” Habit replied, kissing the top of his head through his hair, his own lips starting to quirk up. “How ya feelin’, babes?”

Noah gave a hum before replying verbally, pressing a kiss into the hollow of Habit’s throat. “Warm and cozy.” He stated, pressing another kiss. “What about you?”

“Almost disgustingly calm and content.” Habit replied with a snort, “But the longer it goes on the less I mind.”

Noah laughed into his throat. “Finally sate that bloodlust of yours?”

“Apparently,” Habit squeezed him. “You mind me being clingier than usual?”

“Depends on how clingy we’re talking here.” A yawn exited him and he pulled himself just a little closer, almost directly contradicting the words.

“Wanting to be touching you the whole time we’re around each other and maybe being a little disappointed if you’re not within touching distance clingy.” Habit said with a slightly annoyed sigh, because he knew it was true.

“Honestly?” Noah murmured, “I can get behind that.”

“Thank God.” Habit nuzzled into his hair again.

Noah chuckled softly, kissing at his neck again. Habit made a pleased little rumbling noise that wasn’t exactly a purr, but was rather close. Just… Somehow deeper and more feral sounding without being a growl, and much more brief.

Noah shivered slightly next to him, but there was no surge of anxiety which tempted Habit to believe Noah enjoyed the noise. He made the noise again, nuzzling into his hair. And then he pulled back to look at Noah’s face, and this time it was _definitely_ a purr that rumbled out of his chest.

Noah was really cute when he blushed.

He couldn’t resist the urge to kiss him silly, so he leaned in and did exactly that, some level of his instinct only sounding _more_ content when Noah put up exactly zero fight and just allowed him to lead the kiss. And lead it he did, slowly rolling them until he was on top of him and for once just holding onto his hips instead of holding him down.

Those three words were at the tip of his tongue. He wanted so badly to say them, but… No. He wasn’t _that_ out of it. He wasn’t walking into that potential trap, no matter how content he was.

Noah’s hands slid up Habit’s exposed abdomen until he could wrap his arms around Habit’s neck, and, _dammit,_ he wanted to tell him. Wanted to hear Noah say it back. But he wasn’t setting himself up for that. Not today. Not when he’d only very recently made the discovery, himself, and not when he was potentially only wanting to admit to it because of what had gone down the past few days. Or to assert to himself that it was _Noah_ he loved now and not Lyra.

With one last careful nip at Noah’s lip, Habit pulled back and gazed down at his still-blushing boyfriend. Noah stared back, eyes half lidded, and Habit wondered when he’d started finding even Noah’s aroused reactions _cute._ He decided it didn’t matter and without allowing himself to think about it more he leaned down to capture his lips again, some part of him shivering away with want and the rest of him revelling in how nice it felt to just kiss Noah without any of their usual desperation and panting. He’d have to let stuff like this happen more often, he guessed.

He swept his tongue over Noah’s bottom lip, and Noah obligingly opened his mouth with a small, pleased sort of exhale.

It was a slow, languid kiss, Habit’s tongue dragging over Noah’s, then over Noah’s pleasantly sharp fangs, leisurely mapping out a mouth he’d only explored with quick, abortive licks during previous encounters. And Noah positively _melted_ under him.

One hand found its way into his hair and gave gentle, encouraging tugs, and he replied by coaxing Noah’s tongue into his mouth and carefully grazing his teeth over it. He made another of those low rumbling noises, and Noah _trembled,_ hand knotting in his hair and tongue flickering over Habit’s fangs. Habit allowed it with no complaint, instead teasing at Noah’s tongue with his own, coaxing it into what would have normally become a battle for dominance in seconds, but this time was just a leisurely slide of their tongues.

When Habit pulled back this time, Noah was panting slightly, cheeks bright red and pupils blown wide.

Far be it from Habit, at the moment, to deny the silent request Noah was giving.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” He ordered in a murmur, and Noah complied instantly.

After the previous night’s exploits with Firebrand, getting situated and subsequently sliding into Noah’s welcoming heat wasn’t difficult. They’d never actually completely cleaned their mess, so while the lube was probably long gone, the other remaining possible substitutes weren’t. The entrance was easy, the slide smooth, and Noah was already giving a soft, almost relieved moan.

“Surely you felt everything last night,” Habit teased gently, “I don’t see how you could still be horny.”

“Feeling it and directly experiencing it are different things, Hab.” Noah rolled his eyes goodnaturedly as he mumbled back, “And if you don’t see how I’m still horny when I wasn’t actually a part of that seems hypocritical considering how fast you got it up.” There was a teasing tone to his voice as well.

Habit chuckled, thrusting slow and deep, and any response he could have given otherwise disappeared as he leaned down to kiss his boyfriend again.

Noah fell apart under him with surprising speed considering he never once sped his thrusts or got rough with their kiss, but Habit wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t complaining at _all._ Because, first of all, why would he complain about being able to make his boyfriend fall apart with such gentle, _slow_ sex? And second, Noah was cute when he was falling apart from gentle, slow sex. Win win. Not to mention him clenching around Habit when he came had Habit following after him almost embarrassingly quickly.

“That was new,” Noah grumbled once they’d both come down from the high.

“Yeah,” Habit agreed into his neck.

“One of those things I shouldn’t get used to?” Noah wondered aloud.

“Depends.” Habit replied.

Noah hummed his acknowledgement, and the two of them rode out the last of their afterglow quietly holding onto each other.

Habit finally managed to peel himself away from Noah (although not literally, thank God) a few minutes later, eyeing the mess between them even as he pulled out. Noah winced, just slightly, muscles clenching down tight almost on reflex.

“We should shower,” Habit pointed out.

“Together?” Noah quirked a brow, likely expecting the answer to be ‘no’ given their past experience trying to shower together.

“If you want.” Habit said instead.

“... Okay.” Noah agreed after a moment, a pleased little smile curling onto his lips.

Habit could get used to seeing Noah give him smiles like that.

* * *

Once their shower was done (thankfully without further shenanigans by virtue of Noah’s legs being rather shaky) the two of them relocated to the living room, where they were unsurprised to see Alex already awake and typing away on his laptop. Something like relief washed through Alex’s face when he saw Habit up and moving around, but it was quickly replaced by a certain wariness at the sight of Noah that made Habit’s nose scrunch up a little.

“Don’t worry about it,” Noah mumbled into his ear, “We’re already working on that.”

Habit took his word for it and let the look drop.

He greeted the kid, who greeted them both, although his greeting of Noah was slightly delayed and preceded by him cursing under his breath and then forcing himself to look Noah in the eye when he managed to greet him. Habit actually had to admire his resolve, although he wondered what had set Alex’s fear of Noah on such high alert all of a sudden.

Seriously.

He only _looked_ like he felt _wary_ of Noah, but there was a curling, roiling ball of pure _fear_ in his chest, one that was very closely bordering on abject _terror_ that was strong enough that Habit could easily describe exactly what it tasted like. It tasted coppery, like blood used to, with the burned taste of something left too long in the heat - like _actual_ burnt toast - adding a further bitter flavor to the mix, and there was an acrid sort of tang not unlike that associated with an orange peel.

He frowned a bit at the strong taste on his tongue, wishing he could replace it or ignore it. His instinct rumbled slightly, a soft explanation on how to block out specific fears, and he did it to that one immediately. He could still _feel_ it, but he could no longer taste it, and that was all he wanted.

Noah greeted Alex in return as he and Habit sat down on the couch, curling against each other.

“It was Firebrand torturing and killing you,” Noah explained softly, mouth at Habit’s ear. At his questioning hum, Noah clarified, “That’s what made him so much more scared of me.”

Well, that certainly made sense. “And you guys are… Working on it?” He returned, voice just as soft.

An affirmative hum. “He’s not letting him being afraid of me stop him from trying to enjoy my company, or from us getting shit done.” Noah mumbled, “And if you could have seen the way he was forcing himself through it the first couple days you’d have been so proud. I’ve never seen him so vindictive.”

Habit chuckled, and Noah joined him.

A companionable silence before Alex turned on Netflix and then returned to his typing.

“So, about this whole protecting Lyra business,” Habit eventually uttered, “What are we planning to do with that, exactly?”

“I hadn’t really thought that far ahead yet before I brought it up,” Noah admitted under the din of whatever Alex had put on, “And I was too busy worrying about you and Alex to think about it much more before you woke up yesterday.”

“Fair enough,” Habit said, to Noah’s obvious relief. “Let’s think about it now, then, since you’re stuck with me until I feel less clingy.”

Noah gave another little chuckle, relaxing against him fully and losing the vast majority of the anxiety that had started to claw its way up through his guts.

And then they began talking. It didn’t take long to determine that the best course of action was to simply go back up to New Jersey and sort of stalk her for a while, until the Collective came to, well, collect her. And then they’d do whatever it took to fight the Collective away from her and keep them away.

The issue there, however, being that they had no way of getting to Jersey without attracting the Collective’s attention and nowhere to stay while they were in Jersey where the Collective wouldn’t find them. Theoretically they could just open the house’s door onto a New Jersey street and that would be that, but that wouldn’t keep them out of the Collective’s eyes. The Observer would notice, undoubtedly. And then he’d know that Noah knew their plans, and they’d _change_ their plans, and neither Habit nor Noah actually wanted to deal with whatever the change of plans would be.

On a whim, Noah grabbed his phone and texted a contact that Habit swore was his dead cousin.

He didn’t ask, though, because it wasn’t interesting enough yet.

When there was a reply, _then_ he asked.

And Noah casually threw out that his cousin, the one who’d supposedly killed himself, was actually one of the other members of the Collective, and then threw out that he’d carved a Rune of Severance into his back with intent to keep Observer and the Administrator, specifically, from fucking with his head.

Though he’d been tense at the mention of Milo being one of the gods who composed the Collective, he relaxed at that knowledge and didn’t pursue it any further.

Noah texted for a long while, occasionally making little hums of acknowledgement or vague amusement, and Habit simply waited it out. He laid his head on top of Noah’s, kept an arm around his waist, and waited. His eyes dropped after some time, tiredness from the close contact and the warmth of the hold starting to tug at him. He stayed awake through sheer force of will.

“Okay, so,” Noah finally said, jolting Habit from his half-asleep state, “According to Milo, this house has special wards on it. Wards placed there by one of the other members before he became a member.”

Habit nodded slightly.

“So he’s going to get pictures of the wards used for us.” He continued, “So we can fortify whatever place we end up staying in in Jersey.”

“Probably a good idea to ward up the car,” Habit noted. “Even if we don’t _drive_ to Jersey it’d be nice to be able to go places without Observer being able to see us.”

Noah nodded his agreement. “I’m almost tempted to let you tattoo some of them on to me to keep the Observer away, but I’m not near desperate enough for that. The Rune should keep him from being able to focus in on me at least.”

“But I might want to do something of that nature to myself,” Habit concluded, “Even if I’d need ya to explain to me exactly how the fuck the Rune works.”

 _“I_ could tell you that.” Alex interjected and Habit cursed himself internally for raising his voice enough Alex could hear him.

… Still. What did he mean by that?

He turned his raised eyebrow on Alex, who shrugged at him, “I was the one who found the Rune for Noah,” He explained, “I have a wholeass Word doc explaining what it does and how it works. I even fleshed it out after you gave him the tattoo.”

Habit normally wouldn’t have laughed at the phrase “wholeass Word doc”, but coming from Alex it tickled parts of him he’d forgotten about. So he had a chuckle at it before asking the kid to send him the document.

“Sure thing.” Alex gave him a two-fingered salute, and moved to, presumably, do exactly that.

Noah and Habit returned to their quiet plotting.

“So where would we even stay?” Noah asked softly.

“Well, mine and Ev’s gramps died last year,” Habit mused, “And Ev aint said nothin’ about movin’ into the old house, so that’s an option.”

“Why would he move into your grandpa’s house?” Noah’s brows furrowed.

“He left it to us in the will.” Habit explained with a shrug, “For one or both of us to take when we decided to move out. If only he knew I’d run away and that if we use it I’m going to be fucking another guy on every free surface I can.”

It was a crude statement and Habit could have jumped for joy at the sound because that meant some of his usual personality was at last creeping back in. Not enough to make him want to annoy Noah, but enough to let him crack the sorts of jokes he usually would and make statements that would make lesser men blush.

Noah rolled his eyes, “I hope you know you’re going to have to try _very_ hard to get me to let you fuck me on or over any counters or tables.”

“You know I’m extremely persistent.” Habit dismissed. “Besides,” He stated after a thoughtful moment, “I doubt I’d have to try _that_ hard if I just kissed ya silly and rumbled at ya a little.”

Noah’s cheeks tinted pink. “Hush,” He gently swatted at him.

Habit grinned at him and stole a quick kiss, which Noah allowed without complaint in spite of apparently being ‘mad’ at him for bringing his weakness for that particular noise up. He nipped very carefully at his lip, not hard enough to make him moan or draw any blood, but just hard enough to make him melt a little and forget for a second that he was ‘mad’.

As he pulled away, he happened to catch sight of Alex fake-gagging rather exaggeratedly. He grinned at him. Alex stuck his tongue out at him and flipped him off.

He laughed. “You’re gettin’ awful bold, Al,”

“I live with _you,_ Habit.” Alex snorted, as if that explained everything.

And, come to think of it? It kind of did.

* * *

Two days came and went, and Habit’s instinct eventually began to uncurl in his chest once more, his attitude coming back in full at last and some of his urges following suit. Primarily the urges to _annoy_ rather than the urges to _maim,_ he noticed.

But the deep rooted urges beneath them, the more doting and loving ones, didn’t go away just yet, so he found himself continuing to be quite clingy even when he was annoying the ever-loving fuck out of Noah. Thankfully Noah didn’t actually seem to mind him annoying him so much if he was cuddling him while he was doing it, so he’d only lost cuddle privileges once the whole time, for a grand total of ten minutes before Noah submitted to his puppy-dog eyes and let him come back as long as he kept to his promise to not explore that particular tactic of annoyance again.

Habit had kept his promise so far.

They were sitting on the couch again, this time without Alex around (he was, presumably, in his room calling with someone Habit had yet to actually ask him about), when Noah’s phone went off and managed to make him jump about half a foot in the air. Habit laughed at him, getting an annoyed glare even as the momentary panic faded out. It buzzed several more times before Noah finally picked it up.

“... Wards.” Noah answered Habit’s silent question after gazing at the messages he’d received.

Without so much as discussing it, Noah picked out the ones that would blind the Observer and they headed out to the car so they could do what they needed to. Habit pried up some of the carpet in the back floorboard. Noah took the hint and placed his hands carefully on the now-exposed metal, burning the wards into it fairly deeply, until they could clearly be seen in the metal. And then Habit re-covered them and made it look like the carpet had never even been moved with his powers.

They headed back in, gave each other a reassuring look, and set about packing up what they’d need. They’d decided to transport straight to Jersey, of course, but… Well. They’d be there a couple months. And they weren’t sure what they were going to do about Alex in the meantime, admittedly. Could they really leave him here to fend for himself for a couple of months? What if another sacrifice was brought in? Did he have what it took to kill them himself or would he have to keep them tied up in the basement until he got hold of Habit to make him do it?

Better yet, Noah brought up, how were they supposed to get ‘meat’ in Jersey? Surely the Rake wouldn’t suddenly start chasing sacrifices to the back door of Habit’s grandpa’s house just because they’d temporarily ditched their little mansion in the woods.

They were still quietly discussing it when Alex trudged down from the upstairs and collapsed into his chair.

Mumbling quietly, they discussed telling him now or telling him once they got everything figured out.

They chose to wait until they had everything figured out.

* * *

A couple more days passed. Habit felt more or less his old self again, his instinct unfurled and growling in his chest. But it was only growling. He could handle that. When it started getting _louder_ he’d start looking for food again.

“So should we tell him now?” Noah asked as they piled their bags to temporarily make the abandoned house a home in front of the door.

“Better than waiting any longer,” Habit confirmed.

So they trudged into the living room after they piled up the last of the bags, and Noah took the responsibility of actually explaining to their charge what they were doing and why. He started by explaining that Lyra was in danger, hoping that would ease any of the panic Alex might feel about being left alone.

But when Noah was done talking, Alex still hadn’t so much as blinked in surprise.

“Okay.” Was all he said, sounding very calm indeed.

“Okay?” Habit asked, brows shooting up.

“Okay.” Alex confirmed. “I can handle that setup. You’ll still drop in to check on me, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Noah replied.

“Then I’ll be fine.” Alex assured them. “I’m pretty sure I can at least make microwave food while you’re gone, after all.”

“If you say so,” Noah relented far too easily, but they’d decided they were leaving him here days ago. It wouldn’t do to have him fighting Alex on being okay with that decision, “We’ll be leaving soon, so if there’s anything you need…”

“If you could make sure there’s enough food that I won’t have to try and wander my way to a store while you’re gone, that’d be awesome.” Alex snorted, “But aside from that I’m all good.”

Noah immediately went into the kitchen. Habit assumed he was probably filling the cabinets.

“So,” He said, approaching Alex, “I’ve been meanin’ to ask… Who ya been talkin’ to lately?”

“Another person being tormented by _it,”_ Alex replied, “Name’s Ben Foster. I call him Benjy.”

“Oh, hella.” Habit gently clapped his shoulder, “You get yourself some understanding friends, lil man.”

“I’m getting myself some understanding friends,” Alex assured him, rolling his eyes.

Habit grinned and ruffled his hair. “You sure you’ll be okay here by yourself until we get back?”

“I’m sure.” Alex rolled his eyes again, “I get lonely I can just torment Jeff and talk to Benjy - it’ll cheer me right up.”

Habit couldn’t help laughing at that.

“You spend too much time around me,” He informed him when he stopped.

“You’re a bad influence,” Alex confirmed, but the way he was grinning up at him told Habit he didn’t mind whatsoever. “If Jeff asks you about me visiting on New Years can you tell him I didn’t have any idea how I got here and I was gone the next day?”

“If I even talk to Jeff while I’m there.” Habit snorted, but Alex took it as an affirmative nonetheless, as he should have.

Habit was kind of proud of how well he’d picked up on Habit’s manner of speaking and general attitude and how to respond to it. He could banter with him almost as well as Jeff, Evan, and Vinny could now, and he’d been one of the worst at doing it before he’d run away. He’d been too shy and withdrawn. Now he was, if only slightly, confident in himself, slightly more outgoing by Habit’s estimate, and was learning to have quite the mouth on him, in terms of sass and in terms of word choice.

He ruffled his hair again.

Alex complained loudly as he tried to straighten it back out from the poofy mess Habit had turned it into, giving the older male some choice words that he was sure Jeff would have fainted about hearing come out of his little brother’s mouth. Whenever Alex finally went home to Jeff, he was gonna have a hell of a time not cursing in front of him.

Somehow Habit doubted that Alex would care enough to try by then.

Noah returned to the living room with an offhanded note that there _should_ be enough food to last him the whole time they were gone. Alex thanked him for filling up the cabinets, and in a blatant display of how far he’d gotten himself so far in terms of battling his fear of Noah, he looked the guy right in the eyes and smiled without so much as flinching. Habit was really proud of him, admittedly. He’d taken that horrible, bitter tasting fear and, within a few short days, managed to lessen it considerably just by spiting himself into dealing with it. It was weak enough now Habit didn’t have to actively block it out and it didn’t even taste quite as bitter when it did flare up a little worse.

“Alright, guess we’d better head off.” Habit rolled his shoulders, “See ya, kiddo!”

“See ya.” He waved as Habit went for the door.

“Be safe,” Noah told him before going for the door himself.

In true fashion of someone who’d been living with Habit for the last six months or so, Alex’s reply to that was a snort, a laugh, and the phrase, “No promises!” being called after him as he left the living room.

Noah couldn’t help laughing as well.

Habit opened the front door, imagining the entryway of his grandpa’s old house on the other side, and when it successfully did so they simply tossed their bags through the door.

Hesitating on the threshold, they grabbed each other’s hand for comfort. They shared a look when they realized they’d both done it at the same time. And then Noah was leaning down a little and Habit was leaning up and they allowed themselves one calming kiss before they squeezed each other’s hands and took a deep breath.

They stepped through into New Jersey and let the door back to Florida swing shut behind them.


End file.
